


And Then, I Found You

by missdaffodil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Bisexual Male Character, Character Death, Dark Magic, Evil Lucius Malfoy, Fluff and Angst, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Male Character, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Marriage, POV Harry Potter, Pining, Post-War, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdaffodil/pseuds/missdaffodil
Summary: After Lucius Malfoy became the Minister for Magic, Harry Potter had to work for the Malfoy family as a butler in their manor. As Draco Malfoy and Astoria start to have problems, Harry and Draco's feelings for each other start to grow. (Drarry)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 78
Kudos: 181
Collections: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy





	1. Chapter 1

The golden sun peeked through a slice in Harry’s drawn curtains, shining onto his sleeping face. The warmth woke him up, and his green eyes looked around the room. Taking in his surroundings for the first time that day, Harry stretched his arms up and slowly sat. Another day at this job, that he hated. 

Dragging himself out of the bed, Harry put on his slippers and grabbed a towel, slinging it over his shoulder then picked up his toothbrush and toothpaste. He sauntered his way to the shared bathrooms, nodding his hellos to Ron Weasley on his way. 

“I am not in the mood today, mate,” Ron sighed, running his fingers through his messy ginger hair. Nodding in agreement, Harry put some toothpaste onto his toothbrush. Ron was one of his closest friends from his days at Hogwarts. He had taken Harry under his wing when Harry had first arrived, showed him the ropes, helped him when Harry had gotten stuck or in trouble. Ron had been Harry’s saving grace, both him and his wife, Hermione. 

“You’re never in the mood,” chuckled Harry, putting the toothbrush into his mouth. 

“I mean, true,” shrugged Ron, looking at himself in the mirror before releasing a loud sigh. “But especially not today. And I hate not being able to use magic.”

After brushing his teeth, Harry had a hot shower. The water beat down on his shoulders, relaxing some of the tension he held there. His job was difficult, and it caused him a lot of stress and strain. But it paid the bills, very well in fact, and it kept him out of trouble, so leaving didn’t seem like a choice to him. It wasn’t something he could think about. 

“Apparently,” started Ron, mid tooth-brushing, “he’s in a terrible mood today.”

“How on earth do you already know that?” Asked Harry, grabbing the soap and lathering his body with it.

“Seamus told me,” replied Ron. 

“Seamus was on a night shift?”

“It appears so. I think usual night shift was sick,” explained Ron. “Seamus had to cover. I saw him when I needed to use the loo a few hours ago.”

“Perfect,” sighed Harry, the irritation dripping in his voice. Switching off the shower, he grabbed his towel and dried himself off before stepping out. Grinning at Harry, Ron grabbed his towel and walked over to the shower himself. 

“Good luck,” he said, before shutting the door.

“You too,” laughed Harry, walking out of the shared bathroom. He made his way back to his bedroom, luckily the only thing in this place he didn’t have to share. It was small, the walls engulfed him sometimes, but he was thankful he could have his own privacy. The walls were bare and black, with only one small window, which Harry was just able to see the sunrise through. 

Struggling to tie his tie, Harry stared at himself in the mirror. The scar on his forehead showed through his hair. Though all his features were the same as before, Harry felt as though he didn’t recognise himself, the person staring back at him was a stranger. A lot had happened since the battle of Hogwarts.

Breathing deeply, Harry shook himself off and managed to do up his tie. He looked down at his hands, a frown furrowing his eyebrows. They felt heavy, but there was nothing there. Missing was his wand. The job forced him to leave his wand back at his own home, only able to use it on weekends or at holidays. Here, no magic was allowed.

Harry walked down the dark corridors that twisted and winded around the manor. When he first arrived, he’d constantly get lost in these halls, unsure which turn to take next. They were like a maze. But now it was muscle memory, he knew exactly where to go to get to where he needed to be. He swore he could do it with his eyes closed.

Ron was already stood ready by the time Harry had arrived. Nodding their hellos once again, Harry stood next to Ron, stood up tall and kept his hands behind his back. The position they did every day.

The large doors opened, and the cooks came through with breakfast foods. The smell made Harry’s mouth water, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat anything for a while. Attempting to distract himself, Harry looked around the dining room. The dining table was large, for such a small family it seemed odd. The dark oak wood table stretched at least ten metres, which could easily house a large party, but it never did. The fireplace crackled quietly behind the end chair.

Once the food had been laid out, even larger doors opened and in they came, the family Harry dreaded to see each day, following each other in one after another. As the family sat down, Harry and the other butlers got into action, grabbing the objects they did every single morning. Harry would be the one to pour the water.

He walked round the large table, slowly filling up the glasses that sat there. Then, he approached an old enemy. Blonde hair, grey eyes and pale skin. Draco Malfoy.  
Malfoy didn’t even make eye contact with Harry, he just sat and stared at the table, waiting for Harry to complete his task. This happened every morning, and for some reason, it always bothered Harry. He just didn’t understand why. 

Walking round the rest of the table, serving Astoria and Narcissa their water, Harry then went and stood back at his position. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Malfoy put the bare minimum on his plate. His face never changed, his full lips stayed clenched together, his eyes staring only at the plate. Every so often he would look up at Astoria, whom he married a few years back, but his expression never altered. 

“There are some Healers that are going to be on trial today,” Lucius Malfoy said, cutting off a small bit of toast with his knife and fork. “They’ve been harbouring some Muggleborns.”

“Oh?” Narcissa asked, quite obviously uninterested.

“It appears the Muggleborns didn’t have a job, so instead of being sent to the workhouses, the Healers took them in,” Lucius shook his head. “Disgusting.”

The workhouses. Something new that Lucius Malfoy had put in place. Ever since he had become the Minister for magic, he almost refused to acknowledge that Muggleborns and Half-Bloods could do magic. Instead, he forced them to work and only be able to perform magic on the weekend. He claimed it was to keep them acknowledging where they came from, carrying out Muggle tasks throughout the week. Harry had nearly ended up at the workhouses, just for being who he was. For being the boy who destroyed Lord Voldemort. 

Ron and Hermione had managed to get him a job working as a butler at Malfoy Manor, and he was honestly extremely grateful for that. It had seemed that Malfoy had argued the case that Harry should work for them, rather than go to the workhouses, because then they could keep a closer eye on him and torture him when they see fit. 

The workhouses were awful places to be. Slytherin Pure-Bloods ruled over them and tortured the wizards and witches who worked there. They’d work long, gruelling hours, with only one five-minute break in the middle to scoff a sandwich. Workhouse jobs ranged from printing papers, to making robes, to building things like furniture. Of course, the use of magic would be far easier, but the Pure-Bloods found it fun to force Muggleborns and Half-Bloods to complete these tasks as if they were Muggles themselves. 

“You have a Squib on trial today too, right?” Draco asked, speaking for the first time since he had walked in the room.

“Yes. He attempted to worm his nasty way back into the Wizarding World, as if we wouldn’t notice. Of course, we would notice. We are thinking of obliviating him,” Lucius sipped at his glass of water. Malfoy only nodded in response.

Once breakfast was over, the Malfoys all exited the room. Ron and Harry began clearing away the plates. Exhaustion was already washing over Harry and his day hadn’t even begun, but it may have been the thought that the weekend was just the next day. He could go back home, practice magic, hang out with his friends. Things he loved to do. 

After packing away the plates and washing up, it was now time for the butlers to have their breakfast. They all sat in the Manor’s kitchen with the cooks, eating eggs and toast. This was one of Harry’s favourite times of the day, because they were all together and they knew they had some time to themselves.

“Malfoy was quiet,” Ron commented, shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth. 

“Well, you did say he was in a bad mood,” shrugged Harry.

“True. But when isn’t he quiet, really? You’d think he’d be happy that his father is running the Wizarding World. You’d think he’d be happy that Muggleborns and Half-Bloods are tortured.”

“Ronald,” Hermione inputted, shaking her head. “Please, not at the table.”

“It’s true,” Ron interjected. “Malfoy tortured us, you especially, in Hogwarts. Called you vile names and bullied any Muggleborn. Now he’s just rolling over and acting like his father is a big inconvenience.”

“Ron,” Hermione hushed, irately running her fingers through her mass of black curls. “I know you’re angry, but you know better than to go on like this.”

“Fine,” said Ron grumpily, sipping at his black coffee. He definitely needs it, Harry thought. It seems like Ron woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. 

“Are you looking forward to going home, Harry?” Asked Hermione, an attempt at changing the subject. Of course he was, Harry thought. There was nothing better than the weekends when he can sleep in his own, comfortable bed, his wand by his side. The days he can use magic, floo himself to the Leaky Cauldron and have a butterbeer with Ron and Hermione. Every day he missed his apartment, even if it wasn’t luxurious, even if it wasn’t a sweet homely cottage he had always dreamed of.

“I am,” he finally responded, shooting her a sad smile. At this point, Hermione was once again fussing over Ron, who was quite obviously in such a terrible mood. Harry watched them, an adoring smile tugging at his thin lips. Ron and Hermione were such a perfect couple, even though the first few years of their friendship was extremely rocky. Their relationship had blossomed since the battle of Hogwarts, and they’d been nothing but strong ever since. They’d since had children, one boy and one girl, and they were the sweetest kids that Harry had ever come across. Unfortunately, though, the kids had to stay with Molly Weasley while Ron and Hermione were here at the Manor. 

After breakfast, all the butlers and maids got to work doing their duties. Harry and Ron mostly stood by Malfoy’s office, somehow ensuring his safety and also being there if he needed anything, like water. The pair had originally had some Auror training before Lucius took over the ministry, which was why Malfoy had assigned them and a few others to be outside his office, depending on who was on shift. 

Malfoy strode past them, dressed in black robes that trailed along behind him, giving him a sense of authority and power. Malfoy had taken over the affairs of the house and the dealings of dark artifacts. His job seemed extremely stressful, and even more so with Astoria as his wife. 

“Potter,” Malfoy called from inside the office. Holding in an annoyed sigh, Harry walked into the office.

“Yes, sir?”

“Fetch me the paperwork from my father’s office.” He didn’t even look up when he spoke. Harry exited the dark room and made his way over to Lucius’ office. 

Everything was so neat and tidy, and the papers he was looking for sat on the desk. Part of him wanted to read them, but he knew that the Malfoys would find out somehow if he did so. Though, as his eyes peered onto the page as he grabbed it, he saw the words ‘Bankrupt’ on the top. Breath hitching in his throat, he turned the paper over so he couldn’t see the writing and headed back to Malfoy’s office. 

“Here you are, sir,” said Harry, placing the papers in front of Malfoy. He didn’t respond, his lips pressed together, staring down at the other papers that were scattered on his desk. For a split moment, Harry watched Malfoy. The infamous blonde hair slicked back neatly, tucked behind his ears. It had grown a small length since he had been at Hogwarts, reaching just above his shoulders, and always looked tidy. Malfoy’s grey eyes shone in the dim light, even while looking down, something that seemed completely mesmerising to Harry. 

Shaking himself off, Harry finally asked, “anything else?” 

“Dismissed,” responded Malfoy coldly. Nodding, Harry walked himself out of the room and stood next to Ron, posing himself in their usual, and muscle-aching, position of arms behind their back. 

“Seamus was right,” whispered Harry to Ron. “He’s definitely in a foul mood.”

“I don’t know how you can bloody tell,” whispered Ron, shaking his head. “He’s always like that. He’s always been completely silent.”

“Today seems different,” answered Harry thoughtfully, staring at the large wooden doors that were now closed. “Something seems… Off.”

“Oh, give over,” muttered Ron, shaking his head so vigorously his mop of ginger hair shook too. “It’s Malfoy.”

“Will you two be quiet!” They heard Malfoy’s voice call from the office. Instantly Harry’s cheeks went bright red, his ears burning. 

“Do you think he heard us?” Whispered Ron, a worried look on his face. All Harry could do in response was laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Taking a running dive, Harry’s body landed on his soft double bed. Instantly he curled up his body, hugging one of the pillows.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he softly spoke to his bed. His own bed. At his own apartment. Harry did not want to move now; he never did at the weekends. But, he had plans to meet up with some friends at the Leaky Cauldron, so his bed would have to wait until tonight.

With a large grin, he looked at his bedside table. There sat an old faithful friend, his 11” holly wand. Grasping it, he felt the wand’s wood with his fingers, warmth caressing his hand. How he missed his wand for those long weeks at Malfoy Manor.

After changing into something more comfortable, Harry then floo’d himself to the pub. Already there were Ron and Hermione, with their two children, Hugo and Rose. Along with them, Neville sat. He joined in every so often, after his wife, Hannah, became the new landlady. Harry was always happy to see any of his old Hogwarts alumni.

“The weekend!” Beamed Harry as he sat down next to Ron, giving him an elbow in the ribs.

“Your favourite time,” chuckled Hermione, who was sat in between her children.

“How’s it going there?” Asked Neville, his Yorkshire accent always seemed stronger as ever to Harry as he wasn’t so used to seeing him these days.

“It’s awful,” grumbled Ron, taking a big swig of his butterbeer. “Bloody Malfoy. Him and his family are just so rude. They don’t care about anyone but themselves. Malfoy sometimes makes fun because we were always fighting at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, I think he finds it funny that we now work for him,” shrugged Harry. “Better than the workhouses though.”

“I wish we could overthrow Lucius,” Neville said in a very hushed voice. “I hate the fact that this is happening to you guys.”

“Me too,” muttered Harry, looking down at his butterbeer. Everything was going so well for him when he left Hogwarts. He didn’t return for his final years, instead went straight into Auror training. They took him on because he defeated Lord Voldemort, they trusted he would be a good Auror. And he was. He was absolutely excellent. But he was only able to be an Auror for three years before Lucius overtook the ministry. Everything changed then.

“Hello everyone,” called a voice from behind. Turning round in his seat, Harry saw a tall, slender figure and a mass of orange hair.

“Ginny!” He got up from his seat and rushed over, wrapping his arms around her as a greeting. They held in an embrace for a few moments, Harry’s arms able to wrap all the way around her small figure. Ginny and Harry had been together for a while before their relationship ended. It didn’t work out between them, they both got invested in work and Harry realised something big about himself during their relationship. So, naturally, they ended things, and have been great friends ever since.

Ginny was hardly ever around anymore, as she was now a professional Quidditch player for the Holyhead Harpies. She was consistently travelling for matches, which was a shame because her company was always greatly appreciated by the group. Though, Harry knew Ron was very jealous of Ginny. Only he had been affected by the new order out of all the Weasley’s, mostly because being an Auror didn’t pay too greatly, and partially because he had married a Muggleborn. It irked Ron to no end, and he always was saying he wished he had decided to work at the ministry instead, because this wouldn’t have happened.

Harry finally released her and they both sat back down at the table. Ron got up to order her a drink.

“How’s everything been?” asked Ginny, smiling at everyone and then grinning at the kids, who were so excited to finally see their Aunt Ginny.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” huffed Hermione, blowing strands of her locks out of her face. “Having to run around after Malfoy’s wife. But you know, she isn’t too bad,” she shrugged slightly. “I mean, she disagrees with Lucius’ ideas. She’s always going on about them. She’s quite friendly to us.”

“Lucky you,” said Ron, putting the drink in front of Ginny and flopping down next to Hermione. “It’s a mixed bag with Malfoy. He’s either silent all day or angry all day.”

“I’d rather Malfoy than Lucius,” mumbled Harry, trying to ensure no one else could hear him. “I know Lucius hits the Muggleborns that work for him.”

“Oh yes, he’s dreadful,” agreed Hermione. “Mrs Malfoy doesn’t seem too bad, either, though. I mean, I still like her for saving Harry’s life.”

“Me too,” said Harry. “She’s quite nice to me when I pass her. Always civil. I think it’s because I saved Malfoy’s life.”

“I wish I could help you guys get out of this life,” sighed Ginny, sipping her butterbeer.

“Me too,” agreed Neville. “You guys were so good at being Aurors.”

“I know,” said Harry, causing Hermione to reach over the table and give his hand a smack.

“You’ve always been so big headed, Harry,” she tutted, making everybody laugh. For those few hours, it felt like they were back at Hogwarts.

Harry always dreamed of that. Those were the days he truly knew who he was, especially after he left and became an Auror. He’d always think back to those days when he needed to escape. The times he and his friends were in the great hall, eating a delicious dinner and having a laugh together. The times in classes when he’d get things right and would be awarded five points for his house, earning him beams from Ron and Hermione. The times after the battle, when he was training to be an Auror, he and Ron. They’d stay up late studying, help each other out in the field, and when they both graduated and became Aurors, life seemed to be falling in place. Harry was happy, even if his relationship with Ginny crumbled, even though he realised he was…

The sounds of birds woke him up. Grumbling to himself, he pulled himself out of bed and grabbed his wand. Nothing felt better than that to him. Flicking his wand, he opened the curtains to the living room and headed into the kitchen, flicking his wand again to make the kettle boil. Things sure are so much easier using magic, he thought.

After finishing his coffee on his comfortable sofa, he decided to run some errands. He floo’d himself to their local Wizards market and started accumulating food options for the weekends. This mostly consisted of simple to cook things, like pasta and rice, that would keep for months. Looking around, he saw two slender figures that he really did not want to bump into that day. Malfoy and Astoria, walking with their arms linked. Malfoy wore long black robes, of course, that covered his body and most importantly, his arms. Astoria wore a dark green long black dress, which looked to be velvet, and it was rather beautiful. As was she.

Before Harry could scuttle away unseen, Malfoy and his eyes locked, and before he knew it, they were on their way over, Astoria waving kindly.

“Potter,” Malfoy started, “I need you to work tomorrow as well.”

“Why?” Harry tried to not sound disappointed, as Malfoy was his boss.

“There’s a meeting being held in my office at noon. I need an ex-Auror to attend just in case. You will be stood by the door.”

“Can I ask, why me?”

“Well, you’re Harry Potter, aren’t you? Defeater of the Dark Lord?” Malfoy sneered. “Be there at eleven, sharp. Bring your wand.” And with that, he walked off. Harry watched them, Astoria kept muttering to Malfoy, but he didn’t seem in the slightest bit interested in anything she was saying.

***

Filled with anger and annoyance, Harry floo’d himself to Malfoy Manor at 10:50am. He was met by one of the weekend staff, who accepted his identification. Sometimes he wished he was one of the staff who were at the front of the house, they were able to use magic to identify everyone who came into the Manor. But no, of course he had to have the job where he stood for twelve hours a day, outside Malfoy’s office, serving him food and leaving his wand at home.

Malfoy met Harry at the reception of the Manor at eleven exactly.

“Follow me,” Malfoy turned on his heel, not even looking back to see if Harry was following him. He knew Harry would be, and that annoyed Harry.

Malfoy got Harry to stand in the office with him while he sorted out papers, organising everything for his meeting. He almost seems nervous, Harry thought, a frown furrowing on his eyebrows as he watched Malfoy pace about. His bony fingers seemed to shake as he picked up pieces of paper, checking them, then placing them back down, only to check them again moments later. The last time Harry had seen Malfoy like this was back at the battle.

Twelve came around slowly, and Malfoy welcomed the guests into his office, Harry standing by. He got into his usual position, hands behind his back, watching every move everyone made. Something about this situation seemed odd. Never in all the time he had worked here had Malfoy let anyone into the office while he was having a meeting.

It seemed to be some kind of citizens advice meeting, but Harry wasn’t too sure, it had been so long since Harry had been in the real world and had to face real problems. Everything was so hidden to the Muggleborns and Half-Bloods.

“I’m unsure why the payments seem to be void,” Malfoy stated part way through the meeting. Harry noticed he hadn’t been paying too much attention to what they were saying, only to the actions they were taking. Something that Auror training had taught him.

“Well, everyone seems to think you are laundering money, Malfoy,” one of the men said. He was tall with a stocky build, black hair slicked back smartly. They all wore suits, Harry noticed.

“I’m not laundering money,” retorted Malfoy, the irritating dripping in his voice.

“There’s no proof you’re not.”

“There’s no proof I am. I set up this meeting to attempt to figure out what is happening with my business, not to be insulted.”

“Your father has been acting out at the ministry,” one of them explained. Harry noticed he also worked at the ministry; Harry knew him from his training days.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Adding more rules in that haven’t been enforced, sending more Muggleborns to be obliviated. It’s not a rule for them to be, only Squibs,” the man tried to explain.

“I very much doubt that,” scoffed Malfoy, but Harry could tell he was nervous. Malfoy picked at the skin on his knuckles when he was nervous, which in his adult years was hardly ever, but Malfoy was doing exactly that right now.

“It’s true, Malfoy,” the man said, rather firmly.

“I won’t listen to these things without proof. I did not call you here to insult me or my father.”

“Then tell us why the payments were void,” piped up another man, who was shorter than the others, but seemed far more threatening.

“I don’t know why, I’ve told you that,” Malfoy kept his cool the whole time, the words rolling easily off his tongue. He has most definitely matured since Hogwarts, Harry thought. “Everything that I can find is in these papers.”

“We will need to make a copy of those,” the taller man stated, getting out his wand. Harry stood firm, making some noise to ensure the men remembered he was there. Taking a firm grasp around the wood, Harry made his wand visible to them.

“Proceed,” Malfoy said to the man. Slowly, he placed his wand to the pile of papers, a small light shining before he removed it, making a copy that would print out back at the ministry.

“If we find out that you are hiding anything, Malfoy, you will be seeing us again soon,” the shorter man threatened.

“Of course. Good day, gentlemen,” said Malfoy, coolly waving his wand to open the doors. The men left, and Harry took a deep breath. Malfoy got up and walked over to Harry. He could feel Malfoy’s breath on his ear as the blond-haired man leaned down.

“You repeat any of that to anyone, and you’ll be sent straight to the workhouses, Potter,” he hissed, before turning on his heel and walking out of the door, leaving Harry stood there in shock.


	3. Chapter 3

Back to work again. After working the shift on Sunday, Harry was definitely not in the mood for this. One day was not long enough to be away from this job, not even two was.

He stood outside the office again with Ron, hands behind his back. Slowly he moved his head from side to side, his neck cracking as he did. The position caused him to seize up all the time, making his shoulders and neck ache.

The heavy doors opened, and Malfoy waltzed out.

“Potter,” he nodded, “I need you to come with me.”

“Ron too?” Harry asked, moving his hands from behind his back, feeling some form of relief.

“No, he is to stay here and guard the office,” huffed Malfoy. Harry followed him. It wasn’t often Malfoy left his office during the day, unless it were for dinner, and it was odd he had left Ron there. Usually he’d lock up the office, put an anti-unlocking charm on it. There was something in there that Malfoy seriously didn’t want anyone to see, and Harry desperately wanted to find out.

Malfoy moved quickly; he always had done. His walk was sleek, it was almost as if he was floating along. The confidence shone in him; it was as if he knew exactly where he was going at all times of the day. This had been the same as when he was in Hogwarts. Even lost, Malfoy walked with confidence, his chin raised and staring straight ahead. Something about this Harry admired in him.

Malfoy sharply turned a corner and Harry followed. This was a section of Malfoy Manor he had never been allowed to before. There were certain rooms the staff were allowed in, and there were forbidden places too. Bedrooms were a no, unless specifically asked. Harry knew Hermione had been in Astoria’s bedroom, as Hermione and Astoria seemed quite friendly with each other. It was because of their values, Harry thought, since Hermione was a Muggleborn but also one of the smartest and most successful witches of this age. Astoria deeply admired that and seemed to dislike the fact that Hermione worked for her. Though, this didn’t stop her from being harsh on Hermione when the time was right.

“Alohomora.”

Malfoy opened heavy black doors with the wave of his wand. Harry was sure they were in the undergrounds of the Manor. He looked around the room, which Malfoy dimly lit with candles with another swift wand flick. Harry was shocked to find the room was full of artifacts he had never seen before. It was a mess, it almost looked like the room of requirement in sixth year. And low and behold, there was even the vanishing cabinet stored in the far corner. It brought back memories to Harry which he’d rather forget. Every day he was reminded of the curse he had cast on Malfoy, without knowing what it was, leaving him near death on the bathroom floor, by the scar on Malfoy’s face. Seeing the vanishing cabinet brought it all back now, too.

“I need you to stand watch,” instructed Malfoy, pointing towards the door without looking at Harry. “No one is allowed down here. It’s strictly out of bounds, and you are not allowed to tell anyone what is down here.”

“Why not?” Asked Harry curiously, which caused a sigh of frustration from Malfoy as he made his way to a large bookshelf.

“Because, Potter,” started Malfoy with obvious irritation, “these are all dark artefacts.”

“Why do you have them?”

“Why do you keep asking questions?” Shaking his head, Malfoy pulled one of the drawers from the bookshelf and started fiddling around with stuff inside. “This is not on your payroll.”

“No, it’s not, neither is protecting you in an out of bounds section.”

“Potter quit getting on my nerves,” Malfoy looked at him, his icy grey eyes glimmered in the dim light, causing Harry’s heart to skip a beat. “You are paid to follow my orders and that’s all. You are not supposed to speak or ask any stupid questions,” Malfoy was getting angrier by the second. “This isn’t Hogwarts anymore. We’re not flying our broomsticks trying to chase a fucking snitch, we’re adults dealing with adult things,” shaking his head, Malfoy turned back to the drawer.

Lips pursed together; Harry decided to keep quiet. Sometimes he forgot that they were adults, his childhood had been ripped from him since he was one years old. After that, he was never able to have fun like a kid, even when he went to Hogwarts. In his first year he had battled against Voldemort for the first time.

Malfoy was now staring at Harry, arms folded, something in his one hand that Harry couldn’t see. He didn’t know how long Malfoy had been watching him, he hadn’t taken any notice.

“You miss it, don’t you?” Whispered Malfoy. “Hogwarts.”

“I’m not sure,” replied Harry truthfully. “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I think they were the worst years of my life.”

“Things were simpler back then,” said Draco, his body tensing. “Especially in the first few years. It’s hard to let go of the times we could truly be kids.” Those words ran through Harry like ice. He had forgotten that Malfoy had grown up in such a strict household, his father forcing his opinions on him since such a young age. He remembered hearing that Malfoy had no friends before Hogwarts, and that must have taken a toll.

“I just wish I could have had a normal childhood,” said Harry candidly. “I went from my parent’s death, to be my aunt and uncle’s waiter, to be Harry Potter, the boy who defeated Voldemort. Twice.” Shaking his head, Harry looked down to the floor.

“At least you didn’t become a Death Eater,” said Malfoy, and Harry noticed he started to rub his arm, right where the Dark Mark was. “It’s hard to bring yourself back from that.” Harry didn’t know what to say after that, so he just nodded and looked down at his hands. He had never had a civil conversation with Malfoy before, and it definitely felt weird, but it almost felt comforting to him. Silently Malfoy just walked past Harry, expecting him to follow, which, of course, Harry did. They ended up back at the office and Harry returned to his usual post, Ron watching him with a frown.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” whispered Ron, leaning closer to Harry.

“He just needed to grab something,” shrugged Harry, avoiding eye contact with Ron. “Wanted to make sure no one was going to follow him.”

“Where did you go?”

“It doesn’t matter,” responded Harry, finally looking over at Ron with a stern expression. “Don’t ask questions.”

***

That night at dinner, Hermione had some gossip for them all. She sat down almost excitedly, smoothing her maids dress as she did.

“I have something to tell you both,” she spoke in a hushed tone, she didn’t want anyone else to know.

“What is it?” asked Ron, grabbing onto his fork and shoving the food in his mouth.

“You cannot tell _anyone_ I told you this,” said Hermione, looking around the room at the bodies of people who were all too busy to notice the three’s conversation, chatting to each other and enjoying the food. The only good part of working at Malfoy Manor was that the food was delicious. It may have been a hard job, but the Malfoys always made sure their staff was fed properly. Those were Narcissa’s rules. If Lucius had it his way, they’d be eating beans and bread, but Narcissa insisted they had meals that were similar to those they ate at Hogwarts.

“Spit it out!” said Ron impatiently, his mouth full of food.

“So, Malfoy and Astoria have been trying for a baby,” whispered Hermione, leaning close to the two eager men. “But they’re having trouble with it. It seems nothing they do works and it’s causing them issues.”

“That’s good news?” asked Harry, a frown furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’d say so,” Hermione finally picked up her fork and stabbed it into her food. “Stops them from conceiving even more evil into the world.”

Harry looked down at his plate, staying silent while Hermione and Ron continued having a conversation about their days. Suddenly he didn’t feel hungry anymore, instead he felt sad. Though Malfoy was one of his lifelong enemies, he knew that Malfoy would have wanted a child. The thought of Astoria and Malfoy having issues conceiving made him feel sorry for them, especially since Astoria seemed to be a nice person. She wouldn’t let that child grow up with the same views Lucius made Malfoy grow up with, thought Harry, she would have him grow up to accept Muggleborns.

“I’m going to go back to my room,” said Harry finally, putting down his fork and standing up.

“Why?” asked Ron with a slight frown. “You okay mate?”

“Just tired, Sunday’s shift has worn me out still,” lied Harry, shooting them a small smile to try and stop the couple from worrying. “I need an early night.”

“Alright, goodnight,” said Ron. Hermione stood up and wrapped her arms around Harry, she always gave him a hug before they went off to their rooms. The hugs always felt Hermione didn’t know whether they’d see each other again the next day. Which, in the past, was definitely something they risked every day. It was hard to let go of that, even so many years later, the trauma still resided in all of them. Especially with Lucius now in charge, he could easily change the rules and make it so Hermione would be sent away, which terrified her to no end.

“Goodnight, ‘Mione,” said Harry, giving her small frame a squeeze before turning on his heel and walking out of the staff dining room.

He sat on his bed for what felt like hours, thinking about Astoria and Malfoy. He had no idea why it affected him so much, why it made his stomach churn and his chest hurt. He kept thinking of Malfoy and Astoria waiting with the doctor, who has his wand on her stomach, just to tell her no, she isn’t pregnant, yet again. He couldn’t imagine the strain it might put on their relationship, a relationship that Malfoy finally seems happy in…

Or did he seem happy? Harry thought back to all the times he had seen them together. Astoria would cling to Malfoy’s arm, chatting away, while Malfoy looked miles away, eyes completely glazed over, expression forever unchanging. Their conversations were always one sided, and if Malfoy were to ever reply, it would just be in agreement for what she was saying. The conversations they had never seemed deep, never seemed personal, just Astoria telling him about the clothes she bought, or the letters her family had owled to her. She would kiss him on the cheek, and he wouldn’t smile, he wouldn’t blush, he wouldn’t even blink, he’d just stare straight ahead and nod to her in response. There was no affection there.

Maybe, thought Harry, trying for a child is what would bring them together again, and even that isn’t working.

But, Harry was just a butler in this massive mansion, only seeing their public conversations. He didn’t know what they talked about behind closed doors, after dinner, when it was just the two of them. Maybe they were deeply in love, but Malfoy just didn’t want to show weakness like back at Hogwarts. Like back when he was ordered to kill Dumbledore…

Harry found himself falling asleep with his clothes still on, his mind whirring with thoughts about Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 4

(Trigger Warning: mentions of suicide)

Harry entered the familiar home, the comforting smell of cooking coming from the kitchen. This weekend was going to be a nice one, he was spending it with the Weasley’s. Nowadays he hardly ever saw them, he was either too exhausted to go to their house and just wanted to sleep all weekend, or he was busy seeing everyone else in his life. The Weasley’s, though, still treated him like their own son, and he was forever grateful for that.

“Harry!” Mrs Weasley called, running over to him with open arms. Hugging her plump frame, Harry chuckled as he buried his face into her shoulder. Mrs Weasley rocked him from side to side, squeezing him so tight it was as if she would never let him go.

“It’s been far too long, Mrs Weasley, I’m sorry about that,” said Harry once they finally released their grip.

“Don’t you ever apologise,” she beamed, looking up at him with pride in her eyes. “You’re very busy nowadays.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” replied Harry as they made their way back to the kitchen area of their home. Both Mr and Mrs Weasley had spent so many months rebuilding their home after it got burned down all those years ago. Ron and Harry had helped of course, and it was back to the way it was before, if not better.

“How are things at the Malfoys Manor?” questioned Mrs Weasley as she stirred a pot of soup. Harry had always wondered why she didn’t use magic to cook. Mrs Weasley had always said that it was more fun to cook without magic, it made the food taste better apparently. Sometimes Harry thought it just gave her something to do, especially now. All her kids had moved out aside from George, who’d fallen into a depression after Fred’s death. Now he looked after the house with Mrs Weasley, while seeing a mind healer once a week. Some days Harry couldn’t even look at George, knowing he was the reason for Fred’s death. It pained him to see George alone.

“Tiring,” Harry finally responded, grabbing a knife, and started to chop up a carrot after washing his hands. “All I do all day is stand outside Draco’s office with Ron unless it’s a meal, then I’m just serving them water or wine.”

“Better than the workhouses,” mentioned Mrs Weasley, popping the chopped carrots into the pot. She was right, but it was something everyone always said if Harry complained about working for the Malfoys. He felt very lucky he didn’t have to work in the workhouses, he thanked Ron and Hermione every day for managing to get him the job.

Harry didn’t respond, he just continued chopping carrots. Hugo and Rose suddenly ran through the kitchen, chasing each other, which made Mrs Weasley jump and Harry laugh. It was rare that he laughed nowadays, but it always felt good when he did.

“Oh, you two!” Mrs Weasley breathed, putting her hand to her heart and closing her eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Sorry grandma,” the kids both said in unison before running away again, giggling and screaming.

“Ginny won’t be coming today,” Mrs Weasley told Harry nonchalantly, not even looking at him. “Did Ron tell you?”

“No he hadn’t, that’s a shame,” smiled Harry. He always thought Mrs Weasley hadn’t forgiven him for ending things with Ginny, even though it was mutual. Even so, she still treated him like a son, and there was nothing he could be more thankful for. Especially in these dark times.

“Harry!” Ron grinned, walking over to him and ruffling his hair. “How long have you been here?”

“Ages,” chuckled Harry, pushing Ron’s hand off him.

“He’s been helping me chop the carrots while you laze about with your father,” huffed Mrs Weasley, stirring the soup once again.

“I never get to see dad, though,” moaned Ron, still a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Harry, dad wants to say hi to you.”

“Oh, so now I’m losing my helper!” shouted Mrs Weasley as Ron dragged Harry away, making the two boys laugh. Harry’s laughing stopped as soon as he walked into the room though. There sat George, glass of whiskey in his hand, opposite to Mr Weasley. He looked skinnier than Harry had ever seen him, ginger hair a mess, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi George,” said Harry, sitting down next to Mr Weasley.

“Hey Harry,” replied George. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay thank you,” said Harry, shuffling uncomfortably. “And yourself?”

“Oh, you know,” said George, raising his whiskey glass to Harry before taking a swig.

“Harry, my boy!” Mr Weasley said to break the tension, giving Harry a hug. “Would you like a drink?”

“Please,” responded Harry. Mr Weasley got up and waddled over to the drinks table. He was looking much older these days, his ginger hair now completely white, wrinkles settled into his forever smiling face. It worried Harry, the thought of Mr Weasley dying. He didn’t know if George would be able to handle it.

A few years after the battle, before Lucius Malfoy took over the ministry, George had taken a turn for the worse. The Weasleys and everyone around them knew he wasn’t doing well anyway, but it was so sudden. After Fred died, he had always been quiet and emotionally numb. He had stopped pranking, closed down their shared joke shop and become a recluse. There was hardly a time anyone saw a smile on George’s face. He’d lost his smile after Fred died.

Ron had floo’d himself to Harry’s house one night, at around three in the morning. He’d shook Harry awake, tears and snot dribbling down his face.

“George tried to kill himself,” Ron had just about managed to cry out. Harry still remembers what he felt when he heard those words. Cold, as if his blood had turned to ice, his entire body tingling with pins and needles. His stomach had churned, he didn’t know whether he was going to be sick or pass out. This was all his fault, he remembered himself thinking, this was all his fault.

They’d arrived at St. Mungos as quickly as they could floo there. The Weasleys were all outside the room, crying into their hands, Mr Weasley attempting to comfort Mrs Weasley as he sobbed too. The scene was heart breaking for Harry to watch, he felt as though he was intruding, he felt as though it was his fault.

By the time they were able to see George, he had come around and been given some potions to help with the healing. Harry had insisted he wanted to stay out of the room, but Mr Weasley had made him come in.

“You’re part of the family, Harry,” Mr Weasley said, placing a hand to the back of Harry’s neck as they walked in. “George would want to see you as much as all of us.”

But George didn’t want to see anyone. All he did was stare at the walls, hands in his lap, and Harry swore he wasn’t blinking either. They all attempted to talk to him, but he kept his lips tight together, ignoring everything they were saying. He didn’t even react when a healer walked in and checked him over.

He’d gotten better since then, or so Harry thought, but seeing him now made Harry think something bad was going on with George.

“Here you are,” smiled Mr Weasley, handing Harry a glass of whiskey, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Thank you,” responded Harry, taking a long drink from it. The alcohol burned his throat but brought warmth to his body instantly.

***

“Children, please!” huffed Hermione, attempting to control her wild kids at the dinner table. Harry was now pleasantly buzzed, an attempt to ignore the thoughts rushing through his mind every time he looked over at George, who was now drunk.

“If you don’t stop misbehaving, you won’t get any pudding,” Mr Weasley grinned at the kids. “And today it’s grandma’s famous chocolate cake.” The kids instantly stopped messing about. Mr Weasley knew how much those two loved Mrs Weasley’s chocolate cake. Hermione looked at him gratefully.

“Now as I was saying,” she continued her story. “I heard Lucius is also obliviating Muggleborns.”

“Where did you hear that?” asked Harry, suddenly interested. He remembered those men in Malfoy’s office talking about that, but Malfoy had insisted the accusations were false. Surely Hermione couldn’t know about it?

“I heard Astoria talking to someone,” she replied, tucking her wild curls behind her ear.

“I haven’t heard that,” Mr Weasley responded. “And I’d know if he was.”

Harry tuned out again, sipping his whiskey.

Once they had finished dinner, Harry found Hermione stood outside, watching the sunset. He had always thought she was beautiful, from the moment he met her when they were kids, to now. The gold light of the setting sun shone on her dark skin, making her look like an ethereal beauty.

“I don’t think it’s true, you know,” said Harry, noticing his words were starting to string together from the alcohol. The warm air had hit him when he had walked outside, and all the alcohol he had drank was now noticeable.

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione, looking at him with a frown.

“Lucius obliviating Muggleborns. I don’t think he’d be allowed to,” said Harry, looking over to the sunset again. There was something about the red and orange hues that always drew him in. The sunset was always better than sunrise, he thought, as he enjoyed the darkness of the night that followed. There was something that seemed so personal about a sunset to him, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“I’m only saying what I heard Astoria talk about. Besides, Mr Weasley has said he doesn’t, so I should believe that,” Hermione wrapped her cardigan around her in frustration.

“You don’t, though, do you?”

“Of course not. This is Lucius Malfoy we are talking about, Harry. He would do anything to destroy the Muggleborns, you and I both know that.”

“You’re worried,” Harry pointed out, reading her body language. Usually Hermione stood tall and proud, her chin up, but now she was hunched over, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. She stared at Harry for a few moments.

“I am,” she finally answered. “I don’t want it to happen to me.”

“It won’t,” said Harry, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ve always been one to try and fix things, Harry,” she said. “Sometimes there are things you just can’t fix.”

“Harry,” called Ron from behind them. “I need your help with George.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry, walking over to Ron with Hermione following closely behind.

“He’s drunk, we just need to get him to bed. He’s too tall for mum and dad,” explained Ron. Nodding quickly, Harry and Ron rushed into the lounge, where George was sprawled across one of the sofas. They both hauled him up and stuck to each side of George, who could barely move his feet at this point. They just about managed to clamber up the stairs with him and throw him down onto his bed.

“You okay, Georgie?” asked Ron, putting a hand to his forehead, breathing a sigh of relief when he was a normal temperature.

“I’m fine,” slurred George, his eyes drooping as he looked at the two boys. “I don’t know.”

“What’s going on?” asked Ron, sitting down on the bed. “You can tell me anything, Georgie. You know that.”

“It’s getting bad again,” answered George. Harry noticed tears filling his eyes.

“Have you told mum and dad?” George shook his head no. “Please do. They will want to help you. And tell your mind healer, too,” said Ron, taking hold of George’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll stay here tonight with you, okay?”

“You’re the best little brother I could ask for,” slurred George, rolling onto his side to try and hide his sobs, but they were too loud to hide. Harry stood awkwardly in the corner of the room while Ron took off George’s shoes and socks, then lay down next to him, putting an arm around him and holding him close.

“I’m here, you can cry all you need to,” Ron spoke softly to him. At this point Hermione had entered the room and was now rushing over to the side of the bed, crouching down in front of George and gently stroking his hair.

Not being able to watch any more of this, Harry left and hurried down the stairs.

“Harry,” called Mrs Weasley before he had chance to open the front door.

“Yes, Mrs Weasley?” answered Harry, making his way over to her. Without saying anything, she pulled Harry into a large hug, squeezing him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her hand slowly rubbing his back. “For everything you have done for this family. I know you don’t think so, but you have helped us immensely. You are my son,” she told him. Harry felt the tears well up in his eyes, he was sure it was just the whiskey making him emotional.

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley. I’ll come and see you again very soon,” he responded. He said his goodbyes to Mr Weasley and the kids, before floo-ing himself back to his small apartment.


	5. Chapter 5

(Trigger Warning: mentions of abuse.)

It had been a long and difficult week for Harry. The thoughts of George had haunted him every moment of the day, reminding him that it was his fault George was like that. Ron had requested leave from work to help take care of George, who according to Ron, wasn’t getting any better.

Harry’s lack of concentration on the job had gotten him in trouble a few times. Once with Lucius Malfoy. Harry had accidentally spilled water onto him, only a few small drops, but that was enough. Lucius got up, grabbed Harry by the hair and dragged him out of the dining room.

“You useless fucking half-blood,” Lucius spat in Harry’s face, then slapped him hard. “Harry fucking Potter. Salazar knows why my son argued to have you work for us,” Lucius lifted up his cane and whipped it on Harry’s cheek, cutting it open. Harry didn’t say anything. Back in Hogwarts, he would have fought back, had a snarky comment for Lucius before using Stupefy on him. But now, he remained silent, fixating on an object across the room to avoid the tears from streaming down his face. He didn’t want to cry because of the pain from Lucius’ cane. He wanted to cry because he could not believe this was now his life. His freedom had been completely stripped away from him, everything he and others fought for in Hogwarts, everything others had died for, all gone.

“Get back in there,” sneered Lucius, pushing Harry back into the dining room. Hermione from across the room audibly gasped, her cheeks going red as she looked down, avoiding eye contact with Lucius. Harry knew how terrified she was recently, after finding out the possibility that Lucius was Obliviating Muggleborns. Hermione tried her hardest not to step out of line, to do everything right, as if she was back in Hogwarts studying for an exam.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Malfoy watching him. His expression was… Different. As always, his mouth lay flat, but there was something in his eyes that Harry couldn’t quite figure out. Attempting to avoid eye contact, Malfoy looked at the table, and started to pick at the skin on his knuckles.

***

As soon as Harry entered the staff dining room, Hermione was by his side, pulling him into a warm hug.

“Oh Harry,” she cooed, keeping him close. “You poor thing.”

“I’m fine,” said Harry, attempting to keep his cool.

“I hate this place. I really hate it,” said Hermione, Harry could tell she was crying. Pulling her at arm’s length, he attempted a smile.

“Me too, ‘Mione, but we can get through it.”

“This week has just been awful,” she told him as they sat down to eat their food. “George has been doing worse. He’s seeing his mind healer every day now, but he’s been drinking every night. It’s since he told Ron he wasn’t doing well, it’s as if he’s accepted it and now that’s how he is. Ron’s sick with worry,” Hermione shook her head, wiping her eyes with her hands.

It hadn’t even been three hours before Lucius put his hands on Harry again. This time, it was just because Harry was stood there. It wasn’t his fault. But, Lucius had gotten a taste of beating Harry, knowing he couldn’t do anything back like he could during Hogwarts, and it made him hungry for more.

After Lucius had pushed Harry into a wall, grabbed his hair and threw him to the floor, Harry made his way to his post at Malfoy’s office, who had not arrived yet. Harry’s hands trembled behind his back; his whole body felt weak. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead as the pain in his face drilled into him.

Malfoy’s thin figure swiftly made its way down the halls. Today he wasn’t wearing robes, he was wearing what Harry liked to think as a classic Draco Malfoy outfit, a black turtleneck sweater with a blazer. Every so often Malfoy would dress more casual for work around the office, specifically if he wasn’t expecting to see anyone or didn’t have any errands to run. This wasn’t common, though, as Malfoy was now extremely busy with dealing with everything his father left behind when he became the minister.

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks once he had approached Harry, who’s vision was now going blurry from the pain. For a few moments, Malfoy was silent, just watching Harry who refused to look at him.

“Potter,” Malfoy’s voice was soft. Something that was never heard by Harry. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sir,” responded Harry, attempting to keep professional. He didn’t want to be seen as weak, especially not after having to take up this job, especially not in front of Malfoy.

Malfoy’s lips pressed together as he thought carefully about what to say next. “Sit down,” he instructed.

“I’m fine, s-“

“I told you to sit,” interrupted Malfoy, pointing to the chairs that businessmen usually sat on while waiting to see him. Slowly Harry managed to sit down, his whole body trembling from the throbbing pain in his cheek. He was sure it had started bleeding again from him talking, but he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want Malfoy to laugh at him.

But it all became too much. Everything with George, Lucius beating him, feeling weak. Even the way Malfoy watched him made him upset. Tears fell down from Harry’s eyes and he felt his ears redden, he couldn’t believe he was crying in front of Draco Malfoy.

Harry expected ridicule. “Ha! Look! Potter is crying!” He expected Malfoy to say. “What a baby. What a wimp.”

But no, instead Malfoy sat down next to Harry. He was silent for some time, allowing Harry to get his tears out, before he finally spoke.

“Go to bed, Potter,” his voice remained gentle. “Have the rest of the day off.”

Snapping his head round, Harry gawked at Malfoy. “What?”

“You’re unwell. You can’t work like this,” Malfoy pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. Of course, it was black silk, with ‘DM’ embroidered in red thread. “Here, for your cheek.” Harry took it from him uncertainly and pressed it against his cheek, sucking in through his teeth as the fabric pained him.

“Thank you,” he managed to mutter through the stings.

“I can’t heal you as father will know. All I can do is allow you to rest. So please, go back to your room. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” and with a nod, Malfoy walked into his office and closed the large doors behind him, leaving Harry feeling very confused.

***

Friday finally arrived and Harry felt relieved that it was nearly the weekend. He had decided he was to go and see Ron and Hermione, maybe take care of the kids for them while they see to George. He’d sleep for as long as he wanted.

Because of Ron taking the week off work, it had just been Harry stood outside Malfoy’s office. This was unfortunate, but since he’d started working there nothing much had happened. In reality Harry knew they only needed one ex-auror to stand outside Malfoy’s office, but Ron was definitely good company to have all day.

Harry returned to his post after taking a much needed, and approved by Malfoy, toilet break. The door was ajar, unlike how it was when he left. Eyebrows furrowing together, Harry thought Malfoy must have gone out to use the toilet himself, or maybe go and get something from his father’s office. But upon approaching the doors, he heard muffled voices. More than one.

Peeking his head round the door, Harry’s eyes widened at the sight. There were three men, all a lot larger than he and Malfoy, surrounding him. Malfoy was sat in his grand office chair, which was all black and leather and looked comfortable, except for in this situation. Two of the men had their wands out, while a beefier looking wizard questioned him.

“We know you’re up to your dirty tricks again, Malfoy, you and your whole family.” This wizard had jet black hair which was slicked down in a combover. He wore a suit, not a very posh one, in a navy blue, which was the same as the other two wizards.

“We’re not up to anything, sir,” replied Malfoy. His shoulders were relaxed, his face expressionless. All he did was look up at the large men cowering over him, blinking every so often, lips pressed tightly shut together.

“We’re getting more info. And it doesn’t look good for you,” a grizzly voice said from beside the main wizard.

“That’s a shame,” said Malfoy sarcastically. This was the wrong choice.

Everything happened so quickly. The wizard on the right drew his wand higher. In that time, Harry noticed Malfoy’s wand on the floor, the men must have knocked it out of his hand when they walked in. As quietly and quickly as he could, Harry dived to the floor and grabbed the wand, grasping it tight before shouting “EXPELLIARMUS!”

The wand flew from the wizard’s hand. Harry got himself up, pointing Malfoy’s wand at them. “I’d suggest you leave. Now.”

Grabbing his wand, the three wizards quickly scurried out of the room. After all these years, people were still afraid of Harry Potter. Besides, he defeated the Dark Lord.

Harry looked down at the chunk of wood in his hand. It was heavy, as he remembered. Holding it felt warm in his hand, it felt right. The wand had reacted to him the same way Harry’s personal wand had.

It greeted him as if greeting an old friend.

“Thank you,” came a small voice from the corner of the room. Harry looked over at Malfoy, who was now stood up and heading over to Harry.

“It’s my job,” said Harry, holding out his arm to give Malfoy his wand back.

“Doesn’t matter. You saved me,” his lips curled upwards. Was this Malfoy smiling? Harry hadn’t seen that in years, not since Malfoy had been in the Inquisitorial Squad.

“You’re welcome,” said Harry.

“I think maybe it’s best we think about changing your position,” Malfoy said, his smile quickly fading and his eyebrows furrowing into a frown. “I need someone with as quick reflexes as yours to be somewhat of a bodyguard for me.”

“You are joking,” laughed Harry, shaking his head.

“I’m not,” Malfoy’s face stayed serious, his tone unchanged. “The stuff I get involved in is dangerous, especially now. I can’t risk anything like this happening again. It’s not safe for me, Potter.”

Malfoy looked down to the ground, almost in shame. “You’re the only chance I have at being safe.”


	6. Chapter 6

The wand felt good in Harry’s hand. Today was the first day Harry would be Draco’s bodyguard. It had taken a week to get preparations, to get paperwork done and for Harry to pack up his stuff. Unfortunately for him, he had to move into Malfoy Manor permanently, even on the weekends, as this would be a full-time job. But Malfoy would be able to grant him days off and Hermione and Ron had told Harry he could stay at their house if there were any times Malfoy gave him a few days off in a row.

Harry spun his wand in his hand, grinning as the wood felt heavy, his hand feeling warm. A perk of the job is being able to have his wand again. Nothing felt better to him.

Things were quite usual at the Manor, even though he had been given an upgrade, as he was still to be a butler for the family. Still getting up at the crack of dawn for their breakfast, still standing outside Malfoy’s office for hours on end with Ron. That he was grateful for. He couldn’t imagine having to sit inside the office with Malfoy every day.

“I wish I could have my wand,” grumbled Ron as they stood outside the office. “I miss magic so much in the week.”

“I’ll probably never have to use it,” said Harry, “it’s only a precaution.”

“Still, I miss the feel of my wand,” whined Ron. The boys both went quiet immediately when the large doors opened to Malfoy’s office. They always creaked when it opened, warning them Malfoy was coming. Out he walked, his dark green robes floating along with him.

“Potter,” said Malfoy, “I need you to run some errands with me. Weasley, you can have the rest of the day off. How’s George?”

Ron seemed taken aback. “Not great, sir. They’re thinking of taking him to St Mungo’s mind healing facility.”

“That’s a shame. Keep me updated, please. Potter,” Malfoy turned and started to walk towards the hallways. Ron and Harry shared a very confused look to each other before Harry rushed to catch up to Malfoy. He admired the way Malfoy would glide along the floor, his robes moving freely around his body. His movements were so swift, so gentle. Once again Harry noticed his confident walk, staring straight forward, chin raised, just like always. He recognised where they were heading, back into that basement room that had all those strange artefacts.

Something sent shivers up Harry’s spine as they entered. The whole room unnerved him, and he couldn’t figure out why. Malfoy walked along the artefacts, carefully looking at each one, before deciding on a deep purple crystal ball. He pulled a silk cloth from his robe pockets and wrapped it around the ball, slowly and carefully picking it up. Malfoy tapped his wand on the ball and Harry watched as it shrunk in Malfoy’s thin hand, who then slipped it into his robe pocket.

Without saying anything, Malfoy strode past Harry, expecting him to follow, which he did. Harry thought they would be going back to the office, but he was wrong. Instead, Malfoy lead him upstairs. He’d only been upstairs to Malfoy’s quarters a handful of times; his post was predominantly outside the office. The long black corridors were even more winding than those on the floors below. Every so often they approached a floor length window, with black curtains surrounding it. The view outside was astonishing, trees stretched for miles and miles. They truly were in the middle of nowhere.

Malfoy pushed open large dark wooden doors that were perfectly polished and shone as he opened them. The room they stepped into was smaller than the rooms Harry was used to seeing. From front to back lined clothes upon clothes, the majority being cloaks.

“If you’re going to be seen with me in public, I won’t have you wearing butler clothes,” said Malfoy after those long moments of silence. He pondered through the clothes, looking at each one closely, as if it were a life or death decision for which he’d choose Harry to wear. Staying silent, Harry watched Malfoy pull out a robe, then put it back, before pulling out another one. They all seemed to look the same, thought Harry, and he didn’t know why Malfoy was so particular about it.

Finally, Malfoy decided on a robe, which was a deep red. It was the only red one Harry could see in the room, and it was strange to think of the Malfoy’s owning a colour that resembled the Gryffindor house.

“Here,” said Malfoy, carefully handing Harry the robe. “Put this on.” Malfoy turned and headed out of the door, closing only one to give Harry some privacy. He slipped the robe on over his clothes, feeling the material in his hands. It was soft, almost like velvet, it was certainly very expensive.

Harry walked out of the room and Malfoy looked him up and down, a small smirk on his lips.

“Suits you,” he said, his arms folded.

“Probably looks better on me than you,” retorted Harry, almost instantly regretting it. Things weren’t the same as they were at Hogwarts, answering Malfoy back in a sarcastic tone was no longer accepted.

But, instead of punishing him, Malfoy just chuckled. “I never suited red. Good thing I was sorted into Slytherin.” Without saying anything else, Malfoy began walking through the long corridors again, his smart shoes clicking along the shiny black floors. Harry quickly followed, the feeling of the cloak dragging behind him made him feel powerful. Especially with the deep red shade and the feel of the velvet against his hands. He attempted to switch off his brain telling him it was only temporary, that in a few hours he’d be giving the robes back, he will never actually be that powerful again. The last time Harry truly felt powerful was while he was battling Voldemort and won.

Malfoy lead Harry to a room that was used for travel. He grabbed the floo powder and instructed Harry to do so too, then headed towards a fireplace. As he threw down the floo, he said loudly ‘Knockturn Alley’, which made Harry’s heart race. Slowly Harry made his way to the fireplace and threw the powder down, repeating the same words Malfoy had said.

When he arrived, Malfoy was stood waiting for him. Without saying anything, Malfoy started walking towards Borgin and Burkes. Harry stayed close by his side, his wand tightly grasped in his hand, knowing this scene had a possibility of getting messy. Malfoy confidently strode into the Dark Arts shop, nodding to Mr Borgin as he entered.

“Mr Malfoy,” said Mr Borgin, a smile on his terrifying face, his brown teeth gritted together. “How can I help you today, sir?”

“I have an artefact I need to sell,” responded Malfoy coolly, putting a hand into the inside pocket of his cloak and pulling out the shrunken object, which was still wrapped in the silk cloth. Malfoy put it down gently and tapped his wand off it and everyone watched it grow back to it’s normal size. Mr Borgin slowly removed the cloth, his smile growing even bigger, which Harry didn’t think was possible, when he saw what was underneath. The deep purple crystal ball glimmered in the light.

“Don’t touch it with your bare hands,” instructed Malfoy, handing Mr Borgin the cloth. “It’s cursed.”

“Oh, really?” answered Mr Borgin, using the cloth to pick up the ball and look at it closer. “How do you know?”

“It was handed to my father at the ministry, taken away from an ex Death Eater who was attempting to use it for evil.”

“And how is it cursed?” asked Mr Borgin curiously, placing the ball back down onto its stand.

“Whoever uses it can change the future of who they are telling the future of. It can result in death if the caster so wishes,” said Malfoy. Harry felt his blood boil. Why would Malfoy sell something like this to Mr Borgin, who would just sell it to someone else? Why didn’t Malfoy just keep it in his manor with all those other artefacts? He stayed silent, but felt his hands begin to shake.

“Very well,” said Mr Borgin, wrapping it back up in a cloth. He headed over to an empty case and carefully placed it in there, shutting the glass case and tapping it with his wand to ensure its security. Hobbling back over to the counter, Mr Borgin began to estimate how much he owed Malfoy.

“200 Galleons,” said Mr Borgin and Harry nearly choked. Nodding, Malfoy accepted that offer with no questions, and Mr Borgin handed him the money after very carefully, and slowly, counting it. The two men left the shop.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” said Harry angrily as he stormed after him in the streets of Knockturn Alley. This place always scared him. It reminded him of when he was only twelve and accidentally ended up there. The figures that he saw still sometimes haunted his dreams, and he didn’t want to relive that today.

Malfoy remained silent as he headed towards the exit of Knockturn Alley, towards Diagon Alley.

“Malfoy!” Said Harry. Within an instant, Malfoy spun on his heel which shocked Harry. He backed up against the wall as Malfoy stepped towards him, his eyebrows furrowed deeply and a scowl spreading across his face.

“You do not call me Malfoy, you only call me sir,” he spat. “How dare you swear at me, how dare you attempt to question what goes on. I can easily find another bodyguard and have you sent to the workhouses. You should be wishing yourself lucky, Potter.”

Harry stared at him, his breath hitching in his throat. Malfoy’s cheeks had gone red with anger, but the rest of his face remained cool. His eyes watched Harry carefully, staring down to his lips for a few moments, before looking back into Harry’s green eyes.

“Do you understand?” asked Malfoy in a low voice. Quickly Harry nodded and Malfoy instantly backed off, turning back round and continued walking. They ended up heading towards the Leaky Cauldron, which Harry thought was strange, but didn’t question it. As they entered, Malfoy pointed to a table in the corner.

“Sit there,” he instructed before heading to the bar. Harry slowly went and sat down, undoing the clasp that held his cloak together, then rolled it up next to him. Malfoy came back over with a glass of cinnamon fire whiskey for himself, and Hannah Abbott came over with a tray. She placed down a tea and the house soup in front of Harry, before walking off.

“Eat,” said Malfoy, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“You got me food?” Asked Harry, looking down at the yummy looking soup before back up at Malfoy.

“You haven’t been able to have lunch yet, Potter. Can’t have you fainting like you’ve seen a dementor on me,” there was a twinkle in Malfoy’s eyes as he said that and a smirk attempted to pull at his lips, but he controlled it. Harry looked back down at the soup, also trying his best not to smile, before picking up the spoon and beginning to eat. He heard Malfoy sigh and looked back up, seeing him with his head in his hands.

“Is everything okay?” asked Harry gently, placing his spoon down.

“Fine,” replied Malfoy, not moving. “Hunky dory.”

“Mal- sir,” said Harry, trying his best not to anger Malfoy, “I know we’ve always hated each other, but if you need to talk to someone…”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” snapped Malfoy, looking up at Harry. “Everything is fine.” He quickly downed the rest of his whiskey. “I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll be at the bar,” he said, before getting up and walking over there, sitting himself down in front of Hannah. Harry watched him drink more whiskey, and he couldn’t help but feel bad.

Though Harry felt he hated Malfoy’s guts, he realised that his life must be tough. Everything he went through while they were at Hogwarts, for starters, then having to take over the Manor. He remembered Hermione telling him and Ron that Astoria was having problems conceiving, and he wondered if this was a big reason as to why Malfoy was so irritable. But Malfoy was always irritable, wasn’t he? Harry couldn’t help but wonder why. He had a beautiful wife, he was richer than any wizard Harry knew, he finally got what he wanted and had all Muggleborns and Half-Bloods now unable to do magic during the week. Why did he seem so… Lonely?

After a while, Harry went over to the bar. He didn’t know how much Malfoy had drank, but he always thought Malfoy would be a lightweight.

“Sir,” said Harry in a quiet voice. “I think it’s time we went back to the Manor.”

“Why?” laughed Malfoy, looking over at Harry with tired eyes. “What’s the point, Potter? What’s the point of anything anymore?”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” said Harry with a smile, in attempt to seem kind. “I’ll help you back.”

“I’m fine here,” slurred Malfoy.

“No, sir,” said Harry. “I’m putting my foot down. I’m doing what you’re paying me to do. Keeping you safe,” Harry grabbed onto Malfoy’s arms and tugged him off the seat. Malfoy attempted to break free, but at that moment was too weak. Defeated, Malfoy allowed Harry to pull him out of the Leaky Cauldron.

“We’re going to apparate to the Manor,” explained Harry, before keeping a tight grip on Malfoy and apparating.

As they appeared at the Manor, Malfoy stumbled over from the apparition.

“Shit,” whispered Malfoy. “Father can’t know I’ve been drinking.”

“It’s fine,” said Harry, “I’ll help you. He won’t know.”

They managed to make their way back to the office, where Ron stood up tall when he saw them, but instantly had a face of confusion.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” asked Ron.

“None of your business, Weaselby,” laughed Malfoy as Harry dragged him into the office. He got him settled on the chair and picked up Malfoy’s coffee pot, tapping it with his wand to boil the water.

“This is the closest thing we’ll get to an anti-drunk potion,” said Harry light-heartedly as he poured Malfoy a cup. Attempting to be careful, Malfoy took hold of the cup and slowly sipped the coffee, grimacing when he realised it was a black coffee.

“Potter,” called Malfoy as Harry had started to head towards the door.

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you, for keeping me safe,” replied Malfoy sheepishly. “And for getting me home.”

“That’s okay, sir. I’ll be outside if you need anything,” said Harry, a small smile on his thin lips. Malfoy just nodded in response as Harry exited the office, closing the doors behind him and attempted to ignore all of Ron’s questions about why Malfoy seemed drunk.


	7. Chapter 7

The heaviness of Harry’s eyelids kept reminding him of the lack of sleep he’d had the previous night. He had been up all night, tossing and turning, thinking about the day’s events. Firstly, it worried him that there was now a very cursed crystal ball sitting in Borgin and Burke’s. If Harry could, he’d buy it just to make sure no one else did, but he knew that the owners liked to double – or sometimes triple – the amount that they paid for it. He hoped no one would be able to afford it.

Then he worried about Malfoy, much to his surprise. He’d wondered if he’d gotten to bed okay, if his father had found out he’d been drinking, if he was upset, if he was eating right. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Malfoy eating more than just a few bites of toast. Thoughts swirled around his mind, shouting at him, wanting him to get out of bed and go to Malfoy’s room to check up on him. Harry had never felt this way about Malfoy before, it was new, and it consumed him.

“Harry,” said Ron quietly as Harry had gotten lost in thought again. It was very nearly time for breakfast and there was no way he could deal with another beating from Lucius if he spilled water on him or did anything wrong. But Harry was so tired, all he wanted to do was crawl back in bed and pretend this day didn’t exist.

“I’m fine,” said Harry, attempting to shake himself out of it. But it seemed the more he thought about it, the more tired he felt. Stifling a yawn, Harry straightened himself up when the doors opened, and the Malfoy family walked in. Malfoy looked just as tired as Harry did, which didn’t take Harry by surprise.

The morning seemed to go from bad to worse, as Harry didn’t get his cue early enough. He moved last, tripped on his own feet, then spilled water onto the table. Lucius, of course, was furious and got up to punish Harry, grabbing him by the collar and taking him to a separate room. The same thing happened as before, right on the same cheek, which wasn’t fully healed.

After a third thrash, Harry heard the door open.

“Father,” said a familiar voice. “Why don’t you continue with breakfast, I’ll deal with Potter.” Lucius looked over at Malfoy for a moment, then smirked and nodded.

“Of course, Draco,” he said, before leaving the room. Quickly Malfoy grabbed onto Harry’s arm and dragged him through the halls, all the way to his office.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” stuttered Harry, preparing himself for a beating. There were years and years of anger towards Harry that Malfoy could beat him for, all the times Harry back chatted him, the incident in the bathroom. Harry’s eyes remained shut, but nothing happened. When he finally got the confidence to open them, he saw Malfoy transfiguring a piece of paper into a tissue, before directing Harry to his seat. The seat that Malfoy always sat at.

“Does it hurt?” asked Malfoy, leaning down and gently pressing the tissue to Harry’s cheek. The warm breath from Malfoy blew against Harry’s cheek, which oddly comforted him. Their faces were so close, Harry could see every pore, every flaw that he found endearing, he could see the scar he had given to Malfoy up close. After that incident, Malfoy never called Harry ‘Scarhead’ ever again.

“A little,” replied Harry, before sucking a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth as Malfoy accidentally pressed too hard.

“Sorry,” mumbled Malfoy unexpectedly, attempting to clean up the blood on Harry’s cheek.

“Sir,” started Harry, looking down at his lap to avoid eye contact, but he could tell Malfoy’s piercing grey eyes didn’t leave his face, “why are you being kind to me?”

Malfoy took a few moments to answer, but his breath hitched when Harry asked the question.

“I don’t know,” answered Malfoy truthfully, leaning back to sit on the desk. He crossed one slim leg slightly over the other and began to pick at the skin on his knuckles. “I guess, after yesterday, I owe you one, Potter.”

“How did everything go yesterday?” asked Harry.

“It was fine,” Malfoy paused, swallowing nervously. “Father didn’t notice even though he came into the office not long after you left. I complained of a headache and went to bed before dinner. I think Astoria knew, though,” he spoke truthfully, the words just flowed together. It was easy speaking to Harry at this moment, Harry was the only person he felt he could trust. Something Malfoy had never felt before.

“I’m glad it was fine, sir,” said Harry, fiddling with the button on the cuff of his shirt. “I was a bit worried.”

Malfoy scoffed. “You, worried about me?” he almost laughed and shook his head, a few strands of blonde hair falling into his face as he did. “Unbelievable.”

“You were in a state, Mal- sir,” Harry corrected himself quickly. “I won’t ask why. I don’t know why I was worried, to be truthful.”

“Well, I don’t know why I started to worry about you when father took you into another room,” said Malfoy sheepishly, looking down at his hands which were nearly bleeding.

“Face it, sir, you care about me,” said Harry sarcastically, with a small smirk on his thin lips. Laughing, Malfoy shrugged and pushed himself off the desk.

“I could never,” replied Malfoy, pointing to the door. “You’d better go and have your own breakfast. It’s nine, you’ll miss it if you don’t hurry.”

Harry got up and walked out of the office before turning round, his brows knitted together in a frown. “Malfoy?”

Malfoy just looked up at him from his desk.

“Won’t you get in trouble if your father finds out you didn’t hurt me?”

“I can deal with those consequences, Potter,” replied Malfoy, waving his wand, making the doors shut in Harry’s face.

***

“He _helped_ you?” asked Hermione, the shock obvious in her voice.

“Yeah,” said Harry quietly, trying to make sure no other staff could hear their conversation. “He’s risking getting in trouble for it, too.”

“Bloody hell,” said Ron, scratching the top of his head, “I wonder why he’d help you.”

“Well, I helped him the other day, didn’t I?” said Harry as he prodded his fork to his eggs.

“Yeah, but this is Malfoy,” replied Ron.

“We have that though, don’t we?” said Harry, suddenly lost in thought. “Remember during the battle? He stopped me from being turned over to the Dark Lord, then I stopped him from burning in the room of requirement.”

“I guess,” grumbled Ron as he shovelled more toast into his mouth. Looking down at his plate, Harry suddenly didn’t want to eat anymore. The thoughts all came spiralling back about that year, the feelings he got when he saw the people he loved, like Professor Lupin, laying on the floor, dead. Overwhelmed by these sudden emotions, Harry tried his best to blink away tears as he focused on his eggs, attempting to think about the orange colour of the yolk.

“Harry?” Hermione softly called, reaching across Ron to place a gentle hand on Harry’s.

“I’m okay,” croaked Harry, finally looking away from his eggs and at Hermione, her dark eyes worried. “I just remembered, that’s all.”

“Oh Harry,” she cooed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Nothing else was said by the trio, but that was okay, the silence almost comforted Harry. For years they’d tried to help him with words, tell him he was okay, everything was okay, but he knew it wasn’t. He’d never be okay again, not truly. Ron and Hermione found just sitting with Harry, sitting with him in the puddle of sadness, was the best comfort for him. No words, just being there, a gentle touch every so often to remind him that it was now all memories.

Breakfast was over quickly after that, and Harry walked with Ron to the office. They stood there for a while before Malfoy arrived, which was odd, he was always punctual. They heard the clicking of shoes after ten minutes, and Malfoy stormed down the corridor. Harry nearly audibly gasped when he saw Malfoy. He had a swollen lip and his hair was a mess. Harry didn’t say anything, he just watched Malfoy rush into the office and slam the doors shut behind him, making both Harry and Ron jump.

“Do you think…” said Ron, staring at the black wooden doors.

“Yes,” replied Harry, looking down at the floor. “This is all my fault.”

After a few hours, Harry heard Malfoy call him into the office. Slowly Harry walked in, unsure what was about to happen. Surely Malfoy was angry at Harry now?

“Yes, sir?” asked Harry, standing on the other side of the desk.

“Could you make me a cup of tea, I’m very busy with my work,” instructed Malfoy. For a few moments Harry stood there, confused, before heading to the teapot and tapping it with his wand. He was glad he could have his wand as opposed to the other butlers, it certainly made making cups of teas much easier. After the tea had boiled, Harry poured a cup for Malfoy, watching him closely, unsure what was going to happen next. But, to Harry’s surprise, Malfoy just sipped the tea and continued scribbling with his quill.

“Sir?” asked Harry nervously. For a moment, Malfoy stopped writing, before continuing, his hand a little shakier than before.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Are… Are you okay?” Slowly Malfoy looked up at Harry. His lip was no longer swollen, and the cut was nearly gone, Harry had noticed there was a bottle of healing potion on the table.

“I’m fine, Potter,” snapped Malfoy.

“Okay,” nodded Harry, placing the teapot down on the table before turning to leave the office.

“Wait,” whispered Malfoy. Turning back around, Harry looked at him, noticing how small he currently looked.

“Yes, sir?”

“I appreciate it, Potter,” confessed Malfoy, “you, checking up on me. It’s rare for people to ask how I am nowadays.”

“Does Astoria?” pondered Harry, slowly walking back over to the desk.

Malfoy swallowed. “No,” he answered. “We’re not on the best of terms.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Harry.

“Are you still with Ginny?”

“No, sir, we split a while ago,” stated Harry, his voice slightly quieter than before.

“Why?”

“Our relationship fizzled,” he admitted. “We both hardly ever saw each other, and we wanted different things, I guess,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Right,” Malfoy looked back down at the papers he was signing. “Sorry to hear that, Potter.”

“That’s okay,” said Harry, “it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Mm. That’s just how it is, isn’t it?” Malfoy looked back up at him, his grey eyes piercing. They were searching Harry’s face, as if searching for an answer. “Everything ends. Nothing lasts, not our relationships, not our souls. Sometimes it’s hard to remember the point of anything. Signing these papers, sipping tea, waking up in the morning. It’s all another step closer to our ends.”

“Draco-“ said Harry quietly.

“You may go now,” interrupted Malfoy. Without saying anything else, he looked back down at his papers and continued scribbling. Confused, Harry walked out of the office, the doors slamming shut behind him.

***

Today was Harry’s day off, and he had planned to spend the whole day sleeping, but Hermione had other plans. She decided to drag Harry to Hogsmeade for a fun day with Ron and the kids, to grab some lunch and do some shopping. This was the last thing Harry wanted to do, he was so exhausted from the past week, but Hermione insisted it would be good for him.

They entered the Three Broomsticks, noticing a few wizards and witches who would be studying at Hogwarts there. This excited Hermione, seeing the next generation of wizards and witches. Harry didn’t have the heart to remind her if they were half-blood or muggleborn, they’d just end up the same as the trio, trapped.

They sat down at a table, trying to decide on what to have for lunch. The kids were as restless as ever, constantly arguing with each other. At one point Hugo pulled Rose’s hair, causing her to squeal, and for Hermione to get stern with them.

Harry heard the door open and he looked up, recognising the two figures who walked in. Malfoy and Astoria. Today Malfoy was dressed in a black turtleneck, paired with a blazer. Astoria looked graceful in a long floral dress, her hair golden brown hair hung loosely down her back, a style which Harry never saw her in. When Astoria noticed them, Harry saw her tug Malfoy’s arm and they made their way over.

“Hermione!” called Astoria. Hermione turned to look at her, a grin on her face.

“Hi, Mrs Malfoy,” responded Hermione.

“I’m suspecting these are your children?” asked Astoria, a large grin plastered on her tanned face.

“Yes, this is Hugo, and this is Rose,” introduced Hermione, obviously excited for Astoria to meet them.

“Do you mind if we join you?”

“Astoria,” grumbled Malfoy, looking at her sternly.

“What, Draco? I’d like to join them.”

“Fine,” he sneered, “I’ll go and order our lunch.” Irritably Astoria sat down on the seat next to Hermione, quickly taking off her cardigan.

“I’ll order ours, too,” said Harry, giving the group a small smile before getting up and heading to the bar. Malfoy was visibly angry, his shaking hands were grasping the edge of the table, his injured knuckles turning white. The skin on his knuckles seemed worse than Harry had ever seen them.

“I’m sorry for my wife’s rudeness,” said Malfoy after a few moments of silence, ensuring he didn’t look at Harry.

“She wasn’t rude,” assured Harry, “you’re both more than welcome to join us.” Malfoy just nodded in response.

The food arrived quickly, and the group started eating. Hermione and Astoria chatted away happily; Ron always seemed happy with the fact the two women got along well. He’d tell Harry while they were stood outside Malfoy’s office that Hermione was always excited to tell Ron about her day, about the conversations she and Astoria had, and he could never understand how she had so much fun. Both the men knew Hermione was a very chatty person, very confident, she could be friends with anyone. Astoria liked that about Hermione, and agreed with Hermione’s ideas, which made the two friends.

It didn’t take long for the topic to become uncomfortable.

“Oh Hermione, I do adore your children,” complimented Astoria as she gushed over the two, who were happily chatting away. “Draco and I are trying to have children.”

“Astoria,” breathed Draco.

“Although, sometimes I feel as though he doesn’t care,” said Astoria, “I try very hard and Draco never seems interested. There’s always an excuse, he’s too tired, he’s had a bad day, he’s got to get up early in the morning. Sometimes I wonder if it’s me,” Astoria had said too much. In a fit of rage, Malfoy stood up, knocking over his chair before storming out of the pub. Instantly Astoria’s cheeks went bright red, she knew she had messed up, and she looked ashamedly down at her lap. Harry saw a tear slowly fall down her cheek.

“I’ll go,” said Harry, quickly getting up and rushing out of the pub. He could just about see Malfoy, his robes flapping furiously in the wind, he was walking quickly. Harry started to run. He had no idea why he suddenly felt so protective of him. Back in school there was nothing Harry wanted more than to see Malfoy embarrassed, ridiculed, talked bad about. But now that was the last thing he wanted. His chest ached as he thought about Malfoy upset, he wanted to reach out and give him a hug and stroke his soft blonde hair comfortingly.

“Mr Malfoy!” shouted Harry as he finally caught up with him. “Wait!”

Suddenly, Malfoy turned around and grabbed onto Harry, and within that second, Malfoy apparated them both. The surprise of it made Harry’s stomach churn and his head dizzy, and suddenly they appeared somewhere else.

Harry took in his surroundings. The air felt clean and fresh as he breathed in, letting the smell of wet ground fill his nostrils.

“Where are we?” asked Harry. In front of them both was a loch, which Malfoy was already sat down next to, throwing a stick into it. Cautiously Harry walked over to him, looking around once more before sitting down.

“ _Here comes the Loch Ness Monster_ ,” receipted Malfoy, “ _his eyes are blue, his feet are white, he walks ten yards in every stride_.”

“What?”

“A song my mother used to sing to me as a child when I was crying,” replied Malfoy. “I used to come here often. I still do. No one ever comes here, it’s extremely hard to get to for muggles. It’s closed off from the world. I feel safe here,” Malfoy looked at Harry, his eyes seemed sad. “It’s the only place I can truly be alone,” he looked back out to the loch.

“Why are we here?”

“I like the sound of the water. It makes me feel safe. The sound of running water. I can’t explain it, but it relaxes me. It’s almost as if the water’s my friend, I can talk to it and it will reply with its noises.”

“Why did you bring me here, too?” asked Harry.

Malfoy looked back at him. For a moment, Harry thought he saw a twinkle in Malfoy’s eyes, a twitch at the corner of his lips. But it may have been Harry’s eyes playing tricks on him, as Malfoy’s face didn’t change. He just searched Harry’s, wondering what to say next, thinking carefully about the right words.

“You make me feel safe, Harry.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry thought back to his time at Hogwarts as he watched Malfoy throw more sticks into the loch. He wondered what it would have been like if he and Malfoy had become friends that first year. Would Malfoy have become a Death Eater? Would Harry have become a Death Eater? Would he have been able to help Draco, take him away from the toxicity in his life and help him start fresh? Would the London Wizarding World be how it is now, with Lucius as the minister? The questions whirled around his head one after the other, completely deafening him. He attempted to shake them off, but he was unsuccessful.

Malfoy hadn’t noticed spiral. He was too busy thinking about his argument with Astoria, how she had embarrassed him in front of his staff. But also, how he felt awful for shouting at her. He knew she didn’t mean any harm by it, sometimes she just talks too much which can get her in trouble. She had a heart of gold; she tried her hardest with Malfoy, but he didn’t try with her. He wasn’t honest with her from the beginning and now it felt it was too late to be honest. He had caught himself in a lie and was unsure how to get out of it.

Every now and then Malfoy would look over at Harry, who seemed to be intently watching the water which was sparkling in the sun. The small cut was still visible on Harry’s cheek, he wasn’t allowed to use any healing potion on Harry, and it hurt Malfoy to see him injured. Sometimes he’d look at Harry and see the eleven-year-old boy whom he’d desperately wanted to befriend, and sometimes he’d see the boy who he believed had destroyed his life.

As the two were sitting on the bank of the loch, there was suddenly a loud clash coming from the sky. Only a moment before it had been sunny, but now dark grey clouds quickly rolled in overhead.

“Oh no,” said Harry as they both looked up. “That’s not a good sign.” Malfoy didn’t say anything, he just watched as lightning struck across the sky, lighting it up for a split second. Another loud clash, and then suddenly rain started pouring down onto their faces. Quickly Harry scrambled up, Malfoy took his time.

“Come on, Malfoy, we need to apparate back to the manor,” said Harry. Malfoy didn’t respond, he just continued looking at the sky, a smile growing on his plump lips. “Sir!”

“Live a little, Potter,” responded Malfoy, finally looking at him. His face was alive. Those grey eyes that normally appeared sunken and sad were now twinkling, filled with joy. There was colour in his face, his cheeks pink with glee.

“What?”

“Live a little!” Malfoy looked back up at the sky and began to laugh. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Malfoy laugh, not even in Hogwarts. He was always cracking the jokes but didn’t seem to laugh at many. His laugh sounded beautiful, Harry thought, the way it bellowed from his stomach. Even being drowned out by the rain Harry could still hear it, and it was infectious. Beginning to laugh too, Harry looked up at the sky, watching the lightning streak across in forks.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” shouted Malfoy over the sound of the thunder, “they remind us that we all have our breaking points. No matter how much sun we fill our lives with, there’s always going to be a moment where we need to have a storm.” A large grin spread across Malfoy’s face as he held out his arms, spinning in a circle once, laughter erupting from him again.

“We’re going to catch a cold!” said Harry, squinting over at Malfoy.

“Find the peace in the storm, Harry. Feel the rain beating down on you. Feel the freedom it gives you,” Malfoy looked at him, his face suddenly serious. “Let it remind you that you’re alive.”

They stood in the rain, just staring at each other, every now and then looking up at the sky to watch the flashes of light. Harry couldn’t help but watch Malfoy, he seemed so alive, so animated in the storm. His smile never faded, he even tried to catch droplets of rain on his tongue, he laughed and danced. The juxtaposition between this Malfoy, and the Malfoy who would stare straight forward when his own wife kissed him, who had no emotion in his voice, who no longer seemed to feel fear, or anything at that matter.

“Malfoy,” Harry said once the rain started to clear. “We have to go and get dried off.” Malfoy looked at him, a frown furrowing his brows.

“You’re right,” he said, looking back up at the sky one more time. “There always has to be an end.”

***

Harry and Malfoy had apparated back to the manor, soaking wet, getting rainwater all over the shiny black floors. For the first time since Harry had been working there, Malfoy didn’t seem to care. The storm had left him in some sort of euphoria.

“Quick, lets go get dried off,” laughed Malfoy, looking at Harry, “before father catches us.”

“He won’t catch us in the staff quarters,” suggested Harry as they began to sneak through the halls. Malfoy agreed and they rushed around, stopping before every corner and poking their heads round on lookout for anyone that could see them. They both felt like kids again.

Harry imagined they were back at Hogwarts, sneaking out at night when they were supposed to be asleep. He imagined Lucius to be Filch, patrolling the halls with his candle and Mrs Norris, face scrunched up as he attempted to see in the dark. Draco and Harry approached another corner, and Draco peeped round, a mischievous smile painted on his face.

“Clear,” he said, before grabbing Harry’s arm and rushing down that corridor. They heard a noise, and both flattened against the wall. Peeking round, Harry saw a member of the staff, one of the maids. Looking back at Draco, he put his finger to his lips, telling him to stay quiet. Imagining it was one of the professors, Harry did his best to breathe as quietly as possible, before checking again. She had gone.

The boys giggled together as they ran through the hall again, finally approaching Harry’s room. It was further away from the other staff, a proper bedroom this time with an en suite, because he permanently lived there now. The furniture was still bland, just a bed, a wardrobe and a bedside table, but it was better than before. At least, the window was bigger, and he was able to see the forests that stretched around the manor.

Harry opened the door to his bedroom, allowing Malfoy to walk in first. He looked around, a small frown furrowing his brows, taking in the room.

“It’s cosy,” said Malfoy, which made Harry laugh.

“It’s not much worse than my apartment,” said Harry, closing the door behind them and heading into the bathroom. “I could only afford a poxy flat in London, which was the easiest place to floo here from, and it wasn’t much bigger than this room.” Harry grabbed two towels. “Just had a kitchen and lounge with it.”

“Where do you go on your days off?” asked Malfoy, taking the towel from Harry.

“Ron and Hermione let me crash at theirs,” answered Harry as he rubbed his hair with the towel. Nodding, Malfoy slowly took off his blazer, keeping it in his hands as he looked around.

Harry noticed. “Just put it on the bed,” he said, to which Malfoy did.

“Do you mind if I take off my jumper?” asked Malfoy, frowning at Harry.

“Uh, I don’t mind, but if you want privacy you can go in the bathroom,” responded Harry. His ears started burning and he felt his cheeks flush. Nodding again, Malfoy walked into the bathroom but left the door open. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry watched him slowly peel off the wet turtleneck, revealing his very thin body. It was a small shock to Harry how thin he was, he could see Malfoy’s ribcage and spine. The scars that Harry had given him decorated his body, reminding Harry of their fucked-up past. They seemed worse than he remembered, deeper and many more than he thought. Closing his eyes, he looked away, attempting to fight back tears.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Harry.

“What?” asked Malfoy, turning and looking at him.

Harry didn’t expect Malfoy to hear him. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “for what I did to you in our sixth year.” Harry didn’t dare look at him.

“You mean Snape’s curse?” pondered Malfoy, walking closer to Harry. Slowly he put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to jump and spin round. He seemed so much taller now, or maybe Harry just felt small.

“Yes,” answered Harry, trying his hardest not to look down at the body that stood in front of him, trying to keep eye contact.

“I’ve forgiven you for it, Harry,” said Malfoy, his hand still gently placed on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ve done a lot worse to you.”

“You haven’t,” said Harry, shaking his head before turning back around and walking towards the bed. “I could have killed you. All you did was just say mean things. You saved my life, Malfoy, that day in the manor. You stopped them from calling You Know Who on me,” Harry looked at him again. He’d never spoken to anyone about this before, not even Ron or Hermione. The shame was embedded so deeply into him, he didn’t know he even _could_ speak about it.

“Harry-” started Malfoy, but he was interrupted.

“I didn’t know what the curse did. I found it in Snape’s copy of _Advanced Potion Making_. It said to use on enemies. No description, nothing. I was so wound up that year, Draco. I was determined to out you as a Death Eater, I was determined to show people just how cruel you were. So I used it, not knowing the repercussions. I had no idea it would do what it did,” admitted Harry, sinking onto his bed.

Malfoy stayed silent for a while, arms folded, just staring at Harry. The air was tense, and Malfoy staring certainly didn’t help. All Harry could do was look down at the ground, attempting to fight away the tears that threatened to fall. His emotions were heightened, he kept them in so often due to his past that he didn’t know what to do when they threatened to be released.

After a long while of silence, Malfoy sauntered over to the bed and sat close to Harry. The air around Malfoy seemed cold to him.

“I said I forgive you,” repeated Malfoy, staring at the empty dark brown wall. Then, he moved his hand over to Harry’s and placed it on top, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “Please remember that.”

Harry looked up at him. There was a form of sincerity in Malfoy’s face, his eyes looked sorrowful, but not sad. The gleeful twinkle from when they were in the storm was still there. Harry could get lost in his eyes easily.

“Thank you,” said Harry at last before standing up and getting out his wand. He quickly cast the hot-air charm on Malfoy’s clothes before handing him back his blazer and turtleneck. Malfoy just held them in his hands for a while, looking down at them, before slowly slipping them back on.

“I meant it, you know,” mumbled Malfoy as he stood up. “When I said you make me feel safe. I think, after all this time, you’re the only person who has made me feel safe.”

“How’s that?” Harry felt intrigued. Surely after all those years they tormented each other, after that day in the bathroom, Harry would be the last person to make Malfoy feel safe.

“Because you remind me of my childhood. You remind me of the good times, when I was actually happy,” stated Malfoy, a small hint of pink rushing to his cheeks as he confided in Harry, showing him his vulnerable side. “I want to go back to that often. Running around those halls, calling each other names, chasing after each other on the Quidditch pitch. No one else reminds me of the good times more than you do, Harry.”

Harry hadn’t thought of that. Malfoy too reminded him of the good days. There was nowhere he felt more at home than Hogwarts, and he hadn’t felt that in a long time. But there was comfort in being around Malfoy, because he missed those days too. Ron and Hermione had grown up, gotten married, had children. Ginny was a professional Quidditch player, she enjoyed her life. Everyone else he had become friends with at Hogwarts had gotten married, or gotten a different job, or weren’t affected by Lucius’ orders.

But Malfoy? He was still following in his father’s footsteps, having to do what he said. Malfoy was still scared of him.

Harry didn’t realise he had been silent for a while, taking Malfoy’s words in. Slowly he looked up, seeing Malfoy’s grey eyes staring back.

“Thank you for telling me that,” said Harry in a small voice. “You don’t realise how much I needed to hear it.”

“You don’t realise how much I needed to say it,” chuckled Malfoy, giving him a small nod. “I’ll see you soon, Potter,” he said, before opening the door and walking out of Harry’s room without looking back, leaving Harry alone to sit and digest the day's events.


	9. Chapter 9

Ron kept shuffling from one foot to the other next to Harry. He’d been doing it all morning but had kept silent about why. Every now and then, he’d look down at his small pocket watch and either sigh or groan before putting it away again.

“What’s wrong, Ron?” asked Harry finally, after Ron had looked at his pocket watch for the tenth time in the past hour.

“Nothing,” responded Ron. Harry could see his fingers reach into his pocket again.

“Then stop checking the time,” said Harry, grabbing Ron’s arm gently and looking at him.

“It’s just, today’s a visiting day for George. Stupid place only allows people to visit in the week. I was hoping to floo myself there during staff dinner and see him for half an hour maybe, but I think it’ll be too late.” Ron looked at Harry. There was a desperate look in his eyes, his face was scrunched up as if he was in pain. Harry knew how much Ron had wanted to see George, but he hadn’t been able to ever since he was admitted to the mind healing facility. There was only visitation once a week and Ron hadn’t been able to go to any of them.

Malfoy stood at the door of his office, leaning on the doorframe, arms folded. “What are you pottering about for, Weasley?”

“Nothing, sir,” replied Ron, attempting to stand tall. Shaking his head, Harry decided to explain.

“It’s visiting day for George; Ron hasn’t been able to see him since he got there. He won’t be finished from his shift in time to see him.”

“Harry, it’s fine,” said Ron sternly, shooting Harry a look of annoyance.

“No, it’s not,” said Malfoy suddenly, causing Ron to look at him in shock. “Listen, I’m finished for the day. I’m going to spend some time with Astoria. Why don’t you both go to St Mungo’s and visit George?”

“Wh-What will I have to do in return, sir?” asked Ron. Harry could sense his fear, which always seemed odd to him, because Ron had never feared Malfoy before. But the situation had changed, and there was always the worry of Lucius obliviating Hermione. Doing so would have her lose all memories of her children, her life with Ron, everything she had ever learned about the Wizarding World. After finding out that there was a possibility of Lucius obliviating muggleborns, Ron had been on high alert, making sure he didn’t do anything wrong and working twice as hard. Which also meant being scared of Malfoy.

“Nothing,” replied Malfoy, his eyebrows knitting together. “I want you to go and see your brother. And Potter, you deserve an afternoon off, it’s been a tough week for you.” That was the truth. Lucius had purposely picked on Harry every day, ranging from shouting at him to hitting him. That, along with Malfoy being extra annoying because of deadlines he had, meaning Harry had to go to and from with him anywhere and everywhere, made his week very tough.

“Thank you, sir. Come on, Ron, we’ll miss the hours otherwise,” said Harry, grabbing Ron’s arm to drag him. He looked back at Malfoy as they began to walk, shooting him a thankful smile. Nodding in response, Malfoy smiled too, before walking back into his office.

***

The two arrived at St Mungo’s not long after. Nerves built up in Harry’s stomach as they walked along the sleek corridors, heading to the mind healing facility. He didn’t want to go in, he didn’t want to see George there, the guilt resided in him consistently.

They turned a corner and were greeted by a mind healer, who took them to where George was. He was sat, playing wizard’s chess with another patient. It seemed very much like a muggle hospital, Harry thought.

“Georgie!” grinned Ron as George spotted the two men. Getting up, George held out his arms and gave Ron a big hug.

“Ronald,” said George, holding him for a long time. Harry stood back awkwardly, looking to the ground, trying to avoid the view of the brothers embracing. He felt as though he was interrupting. Once the two broke free, George looked at Harry with a gentle smile.

“Hi, George,” said Harry.

“Hi, Harry,” said George, before walking over to him and giving him a hug too. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” answered Harry as they all sat down at the table, the other patient leaving to give the three some alone time.

“How are you getting on?” asked Ron, leaning his elbows on the table. Harry could tell he was so happy to see his brother, there was an excited gleam in his eyes, his lips hadn’t dropped from the smile he’d put on since they entered the room.

“I’m doing better,” replied George, setting up the chess board again. “There are good days and there are bad days. Mostly bad, but there are some good. Before it was just all bad.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Ron with a proud smile on his face. This was the first time George had accepted proper help. The most he had done before was seeing a mind healer once a week. Even after his attempt, he refused to seek treatment for years. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Ron wasn’t extremely proud of his big brother for being so brave. And Harry was proud, too.

“How are things at the manor?” asked George as he began a game of chess with Ron.

“Boring, but Harry got promoted,” answered Ron.

“Oh really?”

“I work there full time now,” explained Harry. “Malfoy wanted me to be his personal bodyguard. So even on the weekends, there I am, stood outside that damn office.”

“Merlin, that must be torture,” said George before hitting his fist softly against the table as one of Ron’s pawns smashed into his.

“I mean, I guess,” said Harry quietly. George picked up on this and looked at him, his eyes wide.

“Harry Potter, are you actually _enjoying_ spending time with Draco Malfoy?”

“Sometimes he can actually be fun,” replied Harry, laughing a little at George and Ron’s responses.

“Are you kidding me? He’s a nightmare! It’s either we’re standing there for six hours straight or we’re constantly running around after him, making cups of tea and fetching paperwork!” complained Ron.

“That’s that side of the job. Sometimes I like going places with him. We go to places I wouldn’t dare step foot in without Malfoy. Like Borgin and Burkes, for example.”

“What in Merlin’s beard do you do there?” asked George, looking back down at the chessboard to begin planning his next move.

“You know what the Malfoys are like,” Harry lied, knowing he couldn’t slip up and accidentally tell them. It was almost top secret what Malfoy took Harry to do with him, and he knew Malfoy selling cursed artefacts was definitely against the law, even with Lucius in charge.

“That’s true, they’re so creepy,” said Ron, shuddering a little then groaning when one of George’s chess pieces destroyed his. “How are you getting better at this?”

“I have literally nothing else to do here,” laughed George. “They took away my wand. This is the only bit of magic we’re allowed to do; wizard’s chess is. It’s alright, though,” he smiled sadly.

“Do the mind healers talk to you a lot?”

“I have an hour appointment every day. It’s not too bad here, I’m better than I was at home, at least.”

“I’m glad,” said Harry with a small smile. He watched as George and Ron continued to play wizard’s chess, laughing together. It made him happy to see George smiling, but he still felt that guilt residing in him. There was nothing more he wanted right now than to just go home and go to sleep, block all the emotions he was feeling. Sometimes he thought maybe he should see a mind healer, but after everything he had been through, it would take years for him to even understand how to deal with his emotions.

Either way, Harry smiled whenever George did, and wanted to be there to support Ron.

***

Harry finally made it back to the manor. Malfoy had given him the rest of the day off, so he was able to just crawl into bed. Though, as soon as his head hit the pillow, bad thoughts whirred round. All he could think about was George, being in that place, having to talk through his emotions every day. Having to talk about losing his twin, his sidekick, his everything. Groaning loudly, Harry decided to get up and wander about the manor, something he was thankfully allowed to do on his days off. He always made sure to avoid the areas that were restricted to him, he didn’t want to get into trouble, and most of the time he just walked along the staff quarters.

But today, something was pulling him towards Malfoy’s office. He was still allowed to go there, as it was his main position, and there shouldn’t be an issue with just checking on the office, ensuring it was locked, ensuring Malfoy wasn’t in there.

As he silently approached the doors, he heard a noise coming from inside the office. Instinctively his hand grasped at his wand in his jacket pocket, remembering back to the day Malfoy had nearly gotten injured by the men from the ministry. Slowly he crept further towards the door and carefully poked his head round. The sight he saw was something he wasn’t expecting.

Sat at the desk was Malfoy, his head in his hands. His shoulders were moving up and down as he let out quiet, muffled sobs. Paper was strewn everywhere, as if he had just thrown it in a rage, and the teapot was smashed on the floor.

“Malfoy?” muttered Harry, making his presence known. Instantly Malfoy jolted up and looked at Harry, but he couldn’t hide the tears that were still dripping down his cheeks and the red puffy eyes.

“What do you want, Potter?” asked Malfoy, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“I- Nothing,” stuttered Harry, shaking his head. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about things and decided to take a walk. Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fucking fine,” spat Malfoy, shaking his head, and leaning back in the seat before looking out of his office window. The light from the candle on his desk illuminated his face, making the tears shine more. Malfoy swallowed, before looking back at Harry. “No, I’m not.”

“Do you need someone to talk to?” asked Harry, still stood outside the room. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, in this situation Malfoy was in control. He controlled everything to do with Harry. Where he slept, how long he slept for, when he ate, if he was to survive another day or not. Though Harry had backchatted a few times, he always stayed slightly fearful of Malfoy, as much as he didn’t want to.

“I’m not sure,” replied Malfoy, running his bony fingers through his blonde hair. “It’s hard to trust anyone nowadays.”

“You can trust me,” said Harry, now stepping into the office. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise my position.”

Malfoy stared at Harry for some time, his jaw clenched, before he began to relax. “My life is a mess, Harry,” he said. The use of Harry’s first name made his heart flutter, made him think maybe Malfoy did trust him. “Mine and Astoria’s marriage is falling apart. We’re struggling with conceiving a child. We’re hardly talking now; our conversations are one sided and that’s my fault. Things are falling apart with the manor, father’s extra cruel,” Malfoy laughed at himself. Why, after all these years, was he still afraid of his father? He was an adult now, but the anxiety still built up in him whenever he was near Lucius.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Harry after a few moments, stepping a little bit closer. “Is there a way you can work things out?”

“I’m not sure,” Malfoy stood up slowly and walked to the window. He took a few moments to stare out at the greenery. All those trees, he could easily get lost in them and no one would be able to find him. He’d be free, at peace, alone. Although, being alone was far from what he wanted, as he had been alone his whole life. There had been those first few years with Astoria when she made him feel whole again, but it wasn’t long before that dissolved, and he was left feeling alone again. For the first time in what he felt like his whole life, Malfoy felt like he could remove his mask to someone, and of course it would be just his luck that it was Potter.

Malfoy turned and looked at Harry. His green eyes glinted in the dim candlelight. They were warm, inviting, nothing like how they were back at Hogwarts. Back then, they only looked at Malfoy with hatred, with anger, with resentment. But now they searched deep into Malfoy’s face, watching, and analysing, his every move, trying to take something away from every conversation they had, every facial expression Malfoy pulled.

“Do you need anything?” asked Harry after a while of silence. He was unsure what to say to Malfoy, Harry had never thought he’d hear a vulnerable side of him.

Malfoy took a few moments to respond. “No,” he finally said, looking down at the floor. “Maybe some help with tidying up.”

Harry used his wand to clean up the smashed teapot, while Malfoy used his to clean up the papers and set them back down on his desk. The two tidied in silence, but the company was comforting enough.

“I seem to say this a lot lately, but thanks, Potter,” said Malfoy once the office was back to its original condition.

“I know it’s hard for you to say that,” smirked Harry, which was greeted with a chuckle from Malfoy.

“Very funny.” He slumped down into his chair, watching Harry put his wand back in his pocket. “I don’t have anyone to talk to but you. How funny is that?”

“Quite,” responded Harry, sitting on one of the visitor chairs Malfoy had for when he held meetings. “After everything we’ve been through, I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to open up to me.”

“Mm,” Malfoy continued watching Harry, who shuffled on his seat uncomfortably, trying to avoid his stare. “Sometimes, on rare occasion, I see why you had lots of friends back at Hogwarts. But, if you tell anyone I just said that, you’ll be at the workhouses before you can cast Expelliarmus for the umpteenth time.”

“Yes sir,” said Harry in a serious voice, which made the corner of Malfoy’s lip curl up in a smile.

“Alright, no need to become big headed, golden boy. I’ll make you work the rest of the day and the night if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll go back to my room, then,” said Harry, standing up. He took a moment to look at Malfoy, who in return continued watching him, his cool grey eyes never looking away. “It’s actually been nice getting to know you, Malfoy. You’re not all bad yourself.”

“Thanks, Potter,” replied Malfoy, before Harry turned around and walked out of the dark room.


	10. Chapter 10

There was a continuous tapping on Harry’s door. Groaning, he opened his eyes, hoping whoever it was would go away. Today was a Saturday, and Harry was supposed to be having the day off. But whoever this was behind the door definitely had other plans.

Groggily Harry got up and opened it, and to his surprise, found Malfoy. He was dressed in casual clothes and waltzed into the room without asking permission to enter.

“It’s my day off,” stated Harry, closing the door.

“I know,” responded Malfoy, heading straight over to Harry’s closet and opening it up. He rummaged through Harry’s casual wear, grunting every now and then. Malfoy had always thought Harry lacked fashion sense.

“What are you doing?” asked Harry, sitting down on his bed before releasing a large yawn.

“I’m bored,” sighed Malfoy, pulling out a jumper and throwing it at Harry before continuing his search through the minimal clothes. “I want a day out in the muggle world. Go to a muggle café, muggle shops…” he trailed off as he pulled out some jeans, huffing before chucking them towards Harry, too.

“You want to do _what_?” Harry nearly laughed. The Malfoy family despised muggles and always attempted to keep as far away from them as possible. Suddenly Malfoy turned, glaring at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I told you, I’m bored. I’ve explored muggle places before, Potter. They’re interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when do you find muggles interesting?”

“Their world is so different to ours. I envy it, sometimes, it seems so much simpler,” Malfoy waved his hand at Harry. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

“You’re literally staring at me,” responded Harry. Rolling his eyes, Malfoy opened the bathroom door and beckoned at him to enter it.

“You’re such a child,” he retorted as Harry walked in.

Once dressed, he freshened himself up before exiting the bathroom. Malfoy was sat on his bed, reading the book Harry kept on his nightstand.

“Enjoying that?” he asked, folding his arms with a small smirk on his face.

“No,” replied Malfoy, turning a page before shaking his head. “This is rubbish.”

“It’s _Flowers in the Attic_ , it’s a classic,” said Harry, taking the book from Malfoy’s hands and putting it back down on his nightstand.

“They have to hide from their grandfather?” asked Malfoy, standing up and glancing at the book again.

“Yes, because their mother had them with her half-uncle. They end up living in the attic of their grandparents house and the book is based on their life in the attic,” explained Harry as they started to walk out the door.

“That’s weird,” scoffed Malfoy, the heels of his shoes clicking on the marble floor. “Muggle fiction books are weird.”

“Oh, and the _Tales of Beedle The Bard_ isn’t?”

“That’s a classic.”

“So’s _Flowers in the Attic_.”

“I politely disagree,” said Malfoy, and that was the end of that conversation. They continued walking through the manor until they reached Malfoy’s office. For a while, Malfoy rummaged through some papers until he pulled out a guide to English towns and flicked it open, looking for a certain page.

“Here,” he said finally, holding out the guide for Harry to take.

“Rye?” asked Harry, looking at the few pictures that decorated the page.

“I wanted to go somewhere quaint and nice, somewhere quiet. Grab my arm, I’ll apparate us there,” instructed Malfoy. Placing the book back down on the table, Harry walked round and took hold of his arm. With a pop, they disapparated, and suddenly they were in Rye.

The warm air hit Harry in his face, contrasting with how cold the manor always was. Malfoy had already started walking over the cobblestones, heading towards the centre of the town. Malfoy stayed silent the whole walk, just looking straight ahead, his chin up in the confident manor he always held himself. The town was truly beautiful, the buildings were all old and mix matched, the floor was purely cobblestones that Harry almost struggled to walk on.

“We should get some lunch,” said Malfoy after a while of silence, pointing towards a small café that stood in front of them. Harry agreed and the two headed towards the building. Inside was small and quaint, the walls were a light-yellow colour and the tables had a single flower in a little vase on them.

Malfoy swiftly walked over to the counter as if he already knew what he wanted. Tottering behind slowly, Harry darted his eyes to the lunch menu. The food was simple, the usual muggle café type of food.

“What can I get you guys?” asked the lady behind the counter.

“Could I have a cappuccino and a cream tea, please?” Malfoy smiled at her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some muggle change.

“I’d like a BLT and a flat white, please,” said Harry. “Uh, Malfoy, I don’t have any money on me.”

“I know,” replied Malfoy, handing the cash over to the woman before smiling and turning around, heading straight over to a seat in the window.

“Where did you learn about muggle food and get the money from?” asked Harry as he sat down opposite him, genuinely intrigued by Malfoy’s knowledge.

“You underestimate me, Potter,” he responded, a twinkle in his eye as he looked at Harry, before moving his gaze out of the window.

The two ate their lunches in silence, Malfoy just picking at his cream tea.

“How are you and Astoria?” asked Harry after a while. Malfoy seemed to tense up, his eyes staring out of the window, watching the small amount of bodies passing by.

“The same as before,” he replied. He looked back at Harry, searching his face. The longer Malfoy looked at him, the more Harry felt his heart beating faster, and he eventually looked down at the table.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

“We’re not talking much anymore. It’s quite hard on my mother,” said Malfoy truthfully. “She was the person who set us up over a dinner. Astoria and I really got along well, and we ended up seeing each other more. But after getting married, things just stopped being as good as it was. There are things about myself that I still don’t understand,” Malfoy swallowed, his shoulders tense, “and I am still trying to figure them out.”

“What are they?”

“I’m unsure,” he looked back out the window, a frown creasing his forehead. “I just know it doesn’t feel right with her, which makes it difficult for us to try and have a child. Which, is something she really wants.”

“Ginny wanted children, too,” said Harry, playing with the rim of his coffee cup with his finger. “Two. A boy and a girl. But our relationship didn’t work out. Same sort of situation, there were things I hadn’t fully realised when I was younger. My childhood didn’t really leave room for me to discover myself, it left me feeling lost…” Harry trailed off, shaking his head with a small smile curling his thin lips. “Sorry, I’m getting personal.”

“No, I get it. Salazar, at sixteen I was attempting to kill my headmaster for the Dark Lord so he didn’t murder my parents. Everything was so strict with my family, I had to follow my father’s rules, think like him, act like him, look like him,” Malfoy took a sip of his cappuccino. His eyes seemed to reflect his past and Harry thought it looked as though his whole life was flashing before him. And for Malfoy, it was. Suddenly he was back on the astronomy tower, wand raised at Albus Dumbledore, the fear making his hand shake.

“I’m still unable to find myself, though, Potter. As soon as I left Hogwarts, I was hated. People tried to curse me on the streets when I’d just be trying to meet our accountant. I had to hide all the time, I ended up never leaving the manor. And then my father became the minister, and it just got worse,” shaking his head, Malfoy finished his drink and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said before walking past the table and exiting the coffee shop.

Harry always admired how Malfoy would just walk away, expecting whoever was with him to follow. And, of course, they always did. There was something so alluring about him, Harry found himself wanting to be around Malfoy more and more these days. He was exciting, full of surprises, but even their silences together felt comforting to Harry.

They continued along the cobblestone pathways; Malfoy was walking slower than his usual pace. He was taking everything in. The air felt clean and fresh, the gentle damp smell of recent rain entered his senses every time he took in a breath. Everything felt so bright and happy, especially compared to the Wizarding World. The air there was musky, the streets always appeared dark and dismal. Especially after Malfoy’s father had been put in charge.

Harry watched Malfoy for a few moments. His face was taut, as if he were deep in thought about something that troubled him. His legs took long strides as he strutted through the English town, trying to decide on where to go next. But his look never faltered, his chin never lowered, even though he was unsure on what to do he remained confident, as if he had walked these paths before.

“Here,” said Malfoy, looking at a shop. “In there.”

“A clothes shop?” asked Harry with a confused expression.

“Yes,” replied Malfoy and walked in. Sighing, Harry trekked in after him and stood next to Malfoy as he looked at the clothes. Everything looked expensive, mostly suits, mostly tweed.

Malfoy slowly looked through each item of clothing, studying each one, running his thin hands over the material to feel it. After some careful consideration, he pulled out a suit and handed it over to Harry.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re trying it on,” replied Malfoy.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Your clothes are terrible, Potter. You need some new ones for when you’re off work.”

“Why does it matter what I’m wearing when I’m not on shift?”

Malfoy glared at him. “Because, Potter, if we take another day trip somewhere, I’d rather be seen with someone who doesn’t look like they’re stuck in the nineties. Please, go and try that on. I’ll bring you more.”

Grunting, Harry walked to the changing room. In annoyance, he pulled of his casual and comfy clothes and tried on the suit. It was a dark brown colour, the material was soft even though it didn’t look it, and Harry found it very comfortable to wear. He left the first three buttons of the white shirt unbuttoned, then opened the curtain to the changing rooms. Malfoy was there with a few more suits draped over his arm. Looking at him up and down with his grey eyes, Malfoy smirked slightly.

“Look at that, you _can_ look put together,” he said.

“Very funny, are those more for me?”

“Yes, a few for you and a few for me,” Malfoy handed them over. Harry tried them on and ended up showing Malfoy the deep green tweed suit, knowing he’d like it due to the colour.

Harry turned on the spot, showing Malfoy the fit of the suit. He stood there, his arms crossed, his one finger trailing along his lips in thought. Malfoy continued to stare at Harry, his eyes watching him intently.

“I must look good, you can’t take your eyes off me,” joked Harry. When Malfoy didn’t respond, he felt his heart rate quicken and his palms get sweaty. “I’m sorry, sir,” he then stuttered, looking at him with worried eyes. “I didn’t mean it.”

There was panic behind Harry’s voice. Malfoy had so much control over him, he could easily send Harry away to the workhouses, or any of his friends for that matter. Forgetting they weren’t in Hogwarts anymore seemed common for him now, especially since the pair were spending more time together, and he never wanted to overstep a line.

“Merlin, Potter, calm down,” laughed Malfoy, shaking his head, his eyes kind. “You’re so worried all the time.”

“It’s hard not to be,” admitted Harry coyly, a small smile curling his lips as his cheeks reddened. He hated seeming weak in front of Malfoy, but Malfoy had been so open with him recently.

“Come on,” Malfoy grabbed his hand and they walked to the till. “He’s going to wear this one out,” Malfoy said to the cashier, handing over the muggle money and grabbing the bags before turning on his heel and walking out of the shop. Harry watched as Malfoy secretly used his wand to cast a wordless shrinking spell on the bags before putting them in his pocket. Then, he held out his arm and looked over at Harry.

“Well?” asked Malfoy.

“Well what?”

“We’re apparating.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the Three Broomsticks. We need to get you drunk,” said Malfoy, before grabbing Harry’s hand and disapparating with a pop.

***

Malfoy had been buying Harry firewhiskeys all night. It was a busy night in the pub, there were a few familiar faces there too. Seamus and Dean, who were now an out and proud couple, kissed in the corner of the room. Harry remembered when they came out. They’d been secretly seeing each other throughout the whole of their Hogwarts years, but they were too nervous to tell anyone and tried to deny their feelings. Years later, they allowed people to know, just before Lucius had taken over. Dean had ended up working for Blaise Zabini’s family at their manor, so Seamus and Dean could only see each other on the weekends. But they made it work, and Harry thought they were very sweet. He always admired their courage to be out and proud, to be themselves, to not feel the fear of anyone judging them.

Hermione and Ron had arrived a while after Harry and Malfoy, Harry already slightly buzzed from the alcohol. He was excited to see his friends and gave them both big hugs. Although they were confused as to why he was there with Malfoy on his day off, they didn’t ask any questions, as this was one of the first times they had seen Harry having fun in a long time.

“So,” said Malfoy, handing Harry another drink, this time of wizard’s brew. “Amuse me. What’s the real reason you and Ginny broke up?”

“I’ve told you the reason,” said Harry, looking at Malfoy with a frown.

“I don’t believe you!” laughed Malfoy, his words strung together in a slur. “Go on. Tell me.”

“We had a difference of preference,” said Harry truthfully, taking a large swig from his wizard’s brew. “I’m not drunk enough to give you the details.”

“You’re such a bore,” said Malfoy with a huff. Harry had never seen this side of him before, he was actually fun. He didn’t seem to care what anyone thought of him in that moment, he was enjoying chatting to Harry. But it was definitely the alcohol.

“Fine, fine!” surrendered Harry with his hands up, “I just need to do this first,” he took the cup and downed the rest of the brew, grunting as he slammed the glass down on the table. Malfoy cheered him, clapping his hands and laughing, causing Ron and Hermione to look over at them with a confused stare.

“The reason Ginny and I broke up,” Harry hiccupped, “is because I stopped finding girls attractive. I want to be with boys.”

“You’re gay?” asked Malfoy, suddenly serious, a frown knitting his light eyebrows together.

“No, I don’t think so,” replied Harry, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure. I never had time to experiment with my sexuality when I was younger, I don’t really know,” he looked at Malfoy and laughed. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“Please!” said Malfoy, nudging Harry with his elbow as Harry rose.

Once Harry sat back down, Malfoy was back with his questions. “So in Hogwarts, did you not experiment?”

“No,” laughed Harry as he passed the pure malt whiskey over to Malfoy. “I dated a few people back in Hogwarts, like Cho and I took Parvarti to the Yule ball,” Harry rambled on. “There were girls I had crushes on and I guess guys too, I just didn’t know it yet.”

“Yeah, Hogwarts was an odd time,” slurred Malfoy, clumsily sipping his whiskey. “I couldn’t find myself dating anyone.”

“Oh, but everyone wanted to date you,” said Harry. “You were one of the most popular boys in the whole school. Every girl swooned when they saw you,” he almost seemed irritated to say that, Malfoy thought.

“I saw Pansy on and off while we were at Hogwarts, and I had a fling with Blaise and a few Slytherin girls, but I never settled until I got with Astoria,” admitted Malfoy, the words slipping off his tongue so easily Harry had barely noticed he’d admitted being with a man. “And now I’m unhappy in my marriage.”

“Why?” pondered Harry, sipping his butterbeer. Mixing drinks was never a good idea for Harry, but he was having fun and truly did not care. The buzz made his head fuzzy and his vision blurred, sometimes he forgot that he was still wearing his glasses, but he liked it. The numb feeling it gave him, how it made him uncontrollably laugh, how he felt free from any anxiety or memories that he constantly tried to suppress with failure.

“She desperately wants a child but we’re struggling to have a child. Problems in the bedroom,” Malfoy snorted as he spoke, “I just don’t feel that intimate connection anymore. Or the intellectual connection. My marriage is very boring, Potter. It’s so boring,” Malfoy looked at him and whined. “So boring!”

“We should go back to the manor,” laughed Harry as he prodded Malfoy, finally noticing he was very drunk. “We need to sleep.”

Harry said his goodbyes to Hermione and Ron, who seemed utterly confused, especially when Malfoy gave them hugs too. Though, they’d never seen Malfoy drunk before, and that he most definitely was.

***

The two stumbled around the manor, trying to keep quiet but failing completely. They giggled like schoolgirls as they clung to each other, knocking into the dark walls, stumbling over their own feet as well as each other’s. In an attempt not to get caught by Malfoy’s parents, they headed to Harry’s room and fell into it, laughing loudly together once the door was shut, knowing they could be as loud as they liked and no one would really hear them. Even with that reassurance, Malfoy clumsily pulled out his wand and put a silencing charm on the room, yelling “ _Silencio_!” in an odd accent as he waved his wand.

Malfoy then flopped down on Harry’s bed, still giggling to himself, resting one hand on his stomach while the other was tucked behind his head.

“Feel better now?” asked Malfoy, looking at Harry who was lay next to him. For a moment, Harry stared into his grey eyes. They were alive, like the day of the storm, they were happy and twinkled in the dim light. It was as though they didn’t need any light to brighten them, Malfoy was doing that all on his own, especially as he gazed at Harry.

“Much, I won’t tomorrow though,” laughed Harry, still watching him. Malfoy’s eyes kept flickering down to Harry’s thin lips then back up to his eyes, not wanting to break the eye contact but not being able to help himself.

“Me neither,” he finally said, almost breathlessly. Suddenly Malfoy sat up, swaying as he did, and stared at the floor.

“What’s wrong? You gonna be sick?” hiccupped Harry as he sat up too, placing a hand on the lower of Malfoy’s back gently, just in case. Shaking his head, Malfoy turned his head to face Harry.

“No,” he said. Nodding, Harry grinned at him, but his smile dropped when Malfoy didn’t look away. They continued to admire each other, before instantaneously Malfoy grabbed hold of Harry’s face. Their lips crashed together, teeth knocking together in passion, and their lips moved in perfect motion together. Sparks filled Harry’s body and the hair on his arms raised. He could taste the alcohol on Malfoy’s lips.

Butterflies danced around his stomach. This was it. This was the feeling he could never have with Ginny. This was the moment he longed for his whole life. Electricity is what you feel when you know they’re the one, they say, and Harry felt it. He could feel the electricity coursing through his veins just from the touch of Malfoy’s hand to his cheek, the other gripping Harry’s hair tightly.

Harry realised now, in despair but also a thrill of excitement, that Draco Malfoy was the one.


	11. Chapter 11

As he opened his eyes, Harry felt the throbbing pain shoot through his head. The room spun around him as he attempted to sit up, his entire body swaying to the side as he did so. This hangover was the worst he’d had in a long time.

Mouth feeling like cotton, Harry looked to the side of him where he expected Malfoy to still be. But, to his disappointment, he wasn’t there. The feeling of Harry’s heart dropping in his chest was heavy. Shaking himself off, he attempted to get up to have a shower, groaning at the thumping in his head and the churning in his stomach.

As he stepped, he noticed a note on his floor. The pain was immense as he bent down to pick it up, but it was no match to the sudden queasy feeling in his stomach as he read the note.

_You may have the day off. – Malfoy._

That was all it said. There was no mention of last night, of the fun they had together, of the kiss. Was the kiss even real? The events of last night were so fuzzy in Harry’s brain he couldn’t remember if it had actually happened or not. Surely it had, right? After all, Malfoy had left a note pushed under his door.

Either way, Harry’s heart felt heavy as he dragged himself to his shower. The warm water beat down on his shoulders, massaging his aching head and relieving some pressure, unfortunately not enough. He stayed in the shower for longer than he usually did, rethinking the night’s events. It was almost as if he could still feel Malfoy’s lips on his, the hands tugging at his hair through passion. Tingles in his body sparked every time he thought of the kiss, butterflies fluttered around his stomach.

After getting himself dressed, Harry decided to go to Ron and Hermione’s. Hermione always made the best cup of tea, and that’s exactly what Harry needed right now. Not trusting himself to disapparate in his current state, Harry made his way through the manor to floo himself to the couple’s house.

The floo powder brought him to the door of the house. A sweet cottage on the outskirts of London, where their children could run around and play happily. Harry knocked on the old wooden door, groaning as his head pounded after every knock. The fresh air wasn’t helping in the slightest.

The door opened and Hermione’s beautiful face peeked round. “Harry!” She called, opening the door wider.

“Not loud,” grunted Harry, putting his hand to his forehead, “I’m extremely hungover.”

“I can imagine, you were so drunk,” said Hermione as she let him in. He sauntered his way through their house, approaching their lounge and flopping down onto the comfortable sofa.

“Harry, mate!” said Ron, to which Hermione shushed him.

“He’s hungover,” she explained, which made Ron laugh.

“Oh no, too much drinking with Malfoy,” said Ron, sitting next to Harry while Hermione went to make a pot of tea.

“It was a weird night,” sighed Harry, closing his eyes and rubbing the temples on his forehead. If only the pain would just go away.

“Oh, we know,” said Ron, “what in the name of Godric Gryffindor was going on between you two?”

Harry felt his ears get hot. “What do you mean?”

“You were so… _Close_ ,” Hermione piped up.

“Yeah, he was buying you drinks all night and you were elbowing each other, mate,” said Ron.

“Nothing was going on,” responded Harry abruptly, sitting up properly now. “We were just having fun.”

“Since when did _Malfoy_ have _fun_?” exclaimed Ron, making Harry wince.

“He actually isn’t all that bad, Ron,” defended Harry, “you just have to get to know him.”

“No thanks,” Ron rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t he supposed to be careful who he spends his time with?” asked Hermione inquisitively, her eyebrows furrowing as she poured cups of tea for the trio.

“I’m his bodyguard, I’m with him most of the time.”

“But if his father found out-”

“I went with Malfoy to a pub, where he wanted to go, and didn’t leave his side, just like I am paid to do, Hermione. That’s all.”

“Alright,” she said softly, but slamming the teapot down in frustration, “I was just asking a question.”

“Fine,” said Harry and folded his arms, staring at the cup of tea in front of him. After a few moments of silence, he picked it up and took a sip, sighing into the cup. “I’m sorry. I’m very hungover.”

“We know,” mumbled Ron, placing a hand on his knee before laughing, “you’ve never been pleasant when you’re hungover.”

The trio had a nice morning, Hermione made them a light lunch and they chatted like nothing was wrong with the Wizarding World. These were some of Harry’s favourite times. Moments like these were extremely rare for him to come by now, and he cherished every single one.

There was suddenly a rapid knock on the door. Everyone looked at each other, confused, as Ron and Hermione barely got visitors. Ron got himself off the sofa and opened the door to a very distressed looking Malfoy.

Heartbeat quickening, Harry wondered why he was there. His mind raced back to the moment he woke up, realising Malfoy was no longer next to him, wondering whether the kiss was real. Whether Malfoy regretted it. Whether the relationship between Harry and Malfoy would be any different, now it was out in the open that Harry wanted to be with men.

“I need Potter,” he said.

“Hello to you too,” grumbled Ron.

“Is he here?”

“Yes,” Ron opened the door and Malfoy stepped inside. Harry could see his knuckles were bleeding and he was still picking at them now.

“Draco?” asked Harry gently, standing up, trying not to stumble as the pain in his head throbbed.

“There’s something father has asked me to do and I need you with me, please,” Malfoy’s words were rushed, scared. His lip trembled as he spoke, and he could barely maintain eye contact.

“Yeah, of course,” said Harry, walking over to him. “Right now?”

“Yes.”

Harry turned to the couple. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“We understand,” smiled Hermione, standing up and giving Harry a big hug. Malfoy just watched, his fingers heading towards his knuckles and playing with the already bleeding skin. Hermione noticed. “Would you like something for your hands, Mr Malfoy?” She asked gently.

Malfoy seemed taken aback. “No, I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding, Malfoy,” Ron chimed in. Malfoy looked down at his hands, his eyes wide. It was as if he hadn’t even noticed. Slowly he nodded his head, not wanting to seem weak in front of the couple but knowing he couldn’t have his hands looking like this as he ran errands. Hermione rushed to her kitchen to get some bandages. Malfoy just stood, staring at the floor. Whatever Lucius was getting him to do seemed to be causing him severe distress, Harry noticed. Much to their surprise, he allowed Hermione to dress his wounds.

“Thank you,” said Malfoy in a small voice, nodding to her and Ron before he headed towards the door.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” said Harry quickly before rushing after Malfoy. Expecting him to apparate, Harry caught up with Malfoy, but they just kept walking in the open nature. “Not too fast, Malfoy,” begged Harry, grunting as he attempted to keep up, “my head is murder today.”

“You will keep up with me, Potter,” instructed Malfoy in a stern voice.

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!” Malfoy turned around, squaring up to Harry in anger. “I don’t pay you to dawdle. You do what I say, when I say it.”

“I am, Malfoy,” responded Harry, staring straight into the grey eyes that pierced back. There was something different about them. Usually when Malfoy was angry, they reflected that, narrowing as they glared, but today they stayed wide. They darted between Harry’s eyes, unable to keep focused on one thing. He was scared. But scared of what, Harry didn’t know.

Without saying anything else, Malfoy turned briskly on his heel and continued walking at a quick pace. Harry inaudibly groaned, the pain in his head now reaching his eyes, his stomach churning with every step he took.

Once the quaint cottage was out of sight, Malfoy abruptly stopped, causing Harry to nearly knock into him.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Today isn’t a good day.”

“You know you can talk to me,” Harry’s voice remained soft, partially to soothe his head, partially to soothe the tall, slender man in front of him, who was visibly shaking.

Malfoy turned, and for the first time Harry noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “Astoria and I got into a fight this morning. She thinks it was wrong of me to get drunk with you last night. She wants me to be home whenever I can, trying to make a child. She desperately wants a little boy. So do I. I tried to tell her I’m allowed to go out and have some fun. She responded with I shouldn’t be having fun with the staff,” that comment hurt Harry. Was that also what Malfoy thought of him, as staff? Someone who once his task is done, isn’t needed anymore? Someone so easily replaceable?

“What do you think?” Harry dared to ask.

“I think I can do whatever the fuck I like, Potter,” there was venom in Malfoy’s voice. “I’m part of the most powerful family in the Wizarding world. Why shouldn’t I be able to do what I want?” Shaking his head, he ran a shaky hand through his white blonde hair before turning back around.

“Then do that,” said Harry unhelpfully.

Laughing, Malfoy shook his head once again, staring at the trees in the distance. “That’s the thing though, Harry. I can’t do that. I must follow orders, keep up a front, act as though I’m okay. I must pretend my demons aren’t constantly resurfacing, like I don’t have nightmares every night. Every time I get dressed, I see the Dark Mark sitting on my arm, a constant reminder of all the mistakes I made. I try to rub it off, I try to use magic, but nothing works. It permanently resides there, staring at me, forcing me to remember my best, forcing me to relive that fear.”

Malfoy turned and looked at Harry. “Do you know what my father has asked me to do? Obliviate a Squib. He wants proof that I can take over the ministry once he retires, he wants me to prove myself to him as his son. I don’t want to do it, Harry. I’m scared.”

Without thinking, Harry walked over to Malfoy and pulled him into a hug. At first, he was stiff, but then he sank into Harry’s arms, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder, burying his face into his shirt. They stood in this embrace for a while, it felt as though Malfoy hadn’t had a hug in years.

Whilst in the embrace, Malfoy found the courage to apparate the two men to the ministry.

“I’m here,” said Harry quietly as they stood at the doors on their own, Malfoy staring at them. He nodded slowly, before stepping forwards, the doors opening automatically for them.

They approached a front desk. No words were needed, the receptionist witch instantly recognised Malfoy and allowed them to enter. The pair entered the large hall and Harry was filled with happy memories. Memories of his days being an auror with Ron.

They made their way towards the elevators and stepped inside, grabbing onto the rails before the elevator shot them down the floors at a fast speed. The motion made Harry feel sick, his hangover ever apparent. It felt as though he was travelling through a million different dimensions at once, stars covered his eyesight. He blinked, attempting to stay focused.

“We’re here,” said Malfoy, stepping out of the elevator. Harry just about managed to stumble after him, his head now spinning with every movement he made.

They entered the large room, where Lucius Malfoy stood, an evil grin spread across his face.

“My son,” he greeted, holding out his arm with power.

“Father,” nodded Malfoy, walking to the centre of the room. There was a chair there, with a person on who Harry guessed was the Squib. He was tied up, a gag in his mouth, eyes wide with fear and streaming with tears.

“Whenever you are ready, son,” Lucius said, stepping back to allow Malfoy to take the limelight. For a moment he just stood, staring at the floor, building up the confidence. Then he walked forwards, standing in front of the Squib. Slowly raising his wand, Malfoy’s eyes began to tear up before he furiously blinked them away.

He stood; his wand held towards the Squib. His hand was visibly shaking. Memories flashed back in Harry’s mind to the night in the astronomy tower, and there was no doubt Malfoy was thinking the same thing.

“Do it, Draco,” hissed Lucius from behind. It took Malfoy a few more moments, staring at the Squib, who was desperately shaking his head, attempting to beg for forgiveness as the gag muffled his words. Then, Malfoy closed his eyes, swallowing harshly.

“Obliviate,” he said, and a gentle white flash of light shot towards the man on the chair. Panic flashed in his eyes, before slowly, nothing. Body slumped; the Squib stared at the floor.

“Well done, my boy,” cheered Lucius. But Malfoy couldn’t stay there a moment longer.

“Father,” his voice cracked before he quickly left the room, striding down the corridor. Harry had to run to catch up with him. Once they were in private, Malfoy turned and looked at Harry.

His face was red and crumpled, his eyes brimming with tears threatening to fall with the next blink.

“I can’t do this, Harry,” he sobbed, putting his head in his hands and slid down the wall until he was sat on the floor.

“Draco,” Harry sat next to him, stomach churning wildly.

“All I could see was Dumbledore staring back at me, telling me I’m a good person, that I can be helped. I don’t want this, Harry, I don’t want this life!” His breathing was rugged, he clutched his chest as he struggled to draw another breath, choking on his tears.

Harry’s stomach churned again. No. Not now. This wasn’t the time.

“Draco,” said Harry quietly, “I need us to go back to the manor, now.”

“I can’t now!”

“I need us to.”

“Shut up, Potter! Shut up!”

But Harry knew he wouldn’t last. Quickly he grabbed onto Malfoy’s arms and attempted to disapparate. How they managed to make it back to Harry’s bedroom without being splinched was a miracle, but as soon as they arrived back, Harry ran to the toilet and promptly threw up.

“Salazar, Potter!” shouted Malfoy, rushing to his side and placing a hand on his back.

“This fucking hangover,” Harry spat into the toilet bowl, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“You’re an absolute moron, Harry Potter. You should have told me you weren’t well enough to come with me.”

“You needed me.”

“That’s beyond the point.”

“No, it’s not,” sitting himself up properly, Harry searched Malfoy’s face with his eyes. “I didn’t want you to do that alone. I know what you’re like. I know what your past is like. We have similar trauma, Draco. Sometimes I will arrive somewhere, somewhere I have been a million times, and I’m suddenly back in those days. I’m suddenly terrified that Voldemort is round the corner, using all my energy to keep him from being in my mind. I know what it’s like.”

“No, you don’t,” muttered Malfoy, scratching at the Dark Mark on his arm.

“Yes, I do,” Harry grabbed onto his hand, forcing him to stop. This made Malfoy jump and he stared at Harry, eyes wide, mouth open. “We will never know how each other felt. But I can tell you I know what it’s like to have repressed trauma. Having to live my life pretending it’s not there. Every time I look in the mirror and see the scar on my forehead, I go through what you told me earlier. I’m thrown back into that time. Sometimes I get phantom pains and I can’t concentrate anymore; I feel like I’m going to pass out in fear that Voldemort is back.”

Their hands were still linked together. After a long pause, Malfoy squeezed Harry’s hand gently. “We can help each other.”

“We can certainly try,” said Harry, resting his head against the wall. “And look. My hangover stopped your panic attack,” he chuckled.

Malfoy tried not to smile but was unsuccessful, and he let out a gentle laugh.

“Screw you, Potter.”


	12. Chapter 12

Harry had never seen Malfoy so excited. Today he was throwing a small party, he would be hosting a dinner for his old Slytherin friends. He had invited the likes of Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott and some others. Malfoy hadn’t seen them in years, and he was certainly looking forward to it.

Harry had been helping set up the hall in which the party would be held. Green curtains hung on the floor to ceiling windows, the long table was decorated in a dark green velvet table cloth, candles decorated the top of the table and to put a Hogwarts twist on things, Malfoy enchanted candles to float in the air like the great hall. There was even a dark green rolled out carpet that ran through the middle of the hall.

Once they had finished decorating, Malfoy stood at the doorway, arms folded, admiring the handiwork.

“It looks amazing,” breathed Harry, looking up to the floating candles. Warmth filled his stomach as he remembered back to the first time he ever saw candles float, the first time he’d ever stepped foot in Hogwarts. That was one of the last times Harry remembered being truly happy. The fear of Voldemort wasn’t there, he wasn’t even in the back of his mind, all he could think about was how excited he was to be a Wizard, to be at Hogwarts with people like him.

“They’ll be here soon, you need to get changed,” instructed Malfoy, a small smile still lingering on his plump lips as he looked at Harry.

“Yes sir,” said Harry, causing Malfoy’s grin to get wider, before he headed back to his room. He and Malfoy had been spending more time together, purely platonic, but the closer they got the more Harry felt butterflies. Would it have been like this back when they were eleven?

Harry changed into his butler clothes. Since being upgraded to bodyguard, he wore more comfortable clothes, something that if he needed to quickly save Malfoy’s life would be easy to do so in. He had forgotten how uncomfortable the collar of the suit was and how hot the waistcoat made him.

Ron met him on the way there. “I’m not looking forward to this. I bloody hate Slytherins.”

“I’m sure it won’t be as bad as it was in Hogwarts,” chuckled Harry to his friend as they continued walking through the windy corridors.

“Oh yeah, now that they’re the most powerful wizards in the Wizarding World?” said Ron sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “We’re dirt on their shoes.”

Harry sighed in response. Deep down he knew Ron was right, things were worse now than their time in Hogwarts, but Harry had been so blinded by his blossoming friendship with Malfoy that he had forgotten all about what was happening to him only a few months before. Brutal beatings from Lucius Malfoy, being constantly threatened to be sent to the workhouses, having to work long and exhausting hours just stood by an office door causing his muscles to go stiff. And now they were tending to a room full of Slytherins, who remember a time when Harry Potter ruled Hogwarts. Yet here he was now, serving their drinks.

As the top ex-Aurors in the manor, Harry and Ron stood by the doors of the hall to welcome the guests and ensure no one tried to sneak in. After that, they would start serving drinks with the other butlers.

The time rolled around for the guests to arrive, and they flowed in. A few Slytherins they recognised, such as Goyle, didn’t cause them any bother. It was odd to see him without Crabbe by his side.

Pansy walked in with her husband. She had married Theo Nott a few years after the battle. She was one of the people Harry dreaded to see, but to his surprise, she was pleasant. Harry thought she looked breath taking. She wore a baro’t saya, proudly showing her native dress, which complimented her perfectly. The cream coloured alampay that hung around her shoulders was held together with a silver Slytherin pin. Down towards the bottom of the baro’t saya, it faded into a black colour, with a gold detailing pattern. Pansy seemed to glow in her outfit, she shone so much more now than she did at Hogwarts.

“Hullo, Harry,” she smiled as she allowed Harry to do his job, using his wand to check her and ensure Malfoy would be safe.

“Hullo, Mrs Nott,” he responded.

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has. You’re clear, you can enter.”

“Thank you,” both Pansy and Theo nodded before entering the room.

Blaise Zabini was one of the next guests to arrive with a handsome man clung to his arm. They both wore very posh suits, with a Slytherin pin on their tie. Blaise was another wizard to openly be gay, like Dean and Seamus. Everyone had been very accepting of Blaise and his husband, and their wedding had apparently been beautiful, not that Harry was invited.

“Potter,” said Blaise with a slight smirk curling his lips.

“Hello, Mr Zabini,” greeted Harry.

“Good to see you again.”

“You too. You’re clear,” said Harry, motioning to Blaise.

Finally, all the guests had arrived, so Harry and Ron stood at the side of the room with the other butlers, awaiting instructions from Malfoy.

“My old friends,” greeted Malfoy excitedly, standing from his seat. He had placed himself at the head of the table, with Astoria on his left and Pansy on his right. “I’m so thrilled to have you here tonight, it has been far too long since we all last saw each other. I am delighted to see my friends here with their partners, and I am also thankful to have my wife Astoria by my side for this dinner. I would also like to take a moment to thank Potter, as shocking as it may seem. So thank you, Harry, for helping me today and for… Everything,” Malfoy took a few seconds, “I hope everyone enjoys their night!”

Harry could feel his ears burning and goose bumps on the back of his neck. Why did Malfoy thank him, in front of everyone, the people who used to join in on bullying him? Shaking his head, Harry attempted to silently laugh off the thought. He was nothing but a bodyguard, a butler, to Malfoy. That’s all he ever will be. No matter the kiss, no matter the hug, no matter their deep conversations. Malfoy was married, trying to have a child, and Harry _worked_ for him. The shame Malfoy would feel if there was anything else to their relationship aside from Harry being his staff.

“So, what is it you do now, Draco?” questioned Pansy as the butlers swung into action, serving food. Harry was serving the wine.

“I deal with the behind the scenes work for father, and dealings with the manor,” explained Malfoy.

“How is your father?”

“He’s doing well, thank you.”

“He’s doing an excellent job with the ministry,” piped up Theo as he jabbed his fork into his steak. “Top notch work if you ask me.”

“I’m glad you think so, Theo.”

“The Wizarding World was a mess before he stepped in. Especially after Hogwarts,” Theo shook his head. “The way it is now is brilliant.”

“I’m glad you think so,” repeated Malfoy, looking over to Harry nervously. It was almost as if Malfoy didn’t agree, which was peculiar, considering he’d spent so many years tormenting Hermione for her blood status.

The two stared at each other for a good few seconds, and it seemed Harry’s kind eyes calmed Malfoy’s frantic ones.

“Yes, he’s very proud of his work,” he said, looking back at Theo with a false smile.

“You must be too,” said Blaise from across the table.

Malfoy swallowed, “I am.”

***

The party seemed to last hours. After the Slytherins had eaten their dinner, music blasted in the hall and everyone used this opportunity to either catch up with their peers or to dance. Every now and then, Harry would look over to Malfoy, who had Astoria by his side the whole time. They would chat to a fellow Slytherin, then head to the dancefloor when a song they enjoyed came on. Malfoy’s hands wrapped around Astoria’s small waist, holding her close, while her arms snaked around his neck. There was a pang of jealousy tugging at Harry’s chest, making the room feel stuffy and his collar suddenly too tight. He tried to shake it off, but every time he looked back over, it was there again.

He started to wish it were him that danced in Malfoy’s arms. He didn’t know why, but the idea of him being in Malfoy’s arms seemed right.

Harry gripped onto the silver tray that held the champagne flutes. He tried to avoid looking at the couple, walking around the room, offering out the drinks. A few politely said no, a few took the drinks.

“How’s life working for the Malfoy’s?” a familiar voice asked. Turning round, Harry saw Blaise Zabini in front of him. He was tall, he seemed taller now than at Hogwarts.

“Interesting,” replied Harry with a polite smile.

“I hope they treat you well. I try and treat all my staff well.”

“Dean works for you, doesn’t he?”

“He does.”

“How’s he doing?” asked Harry.

“Very well, thank you. He’s one of my personal butlers. Seamus works here, doesn’t he?”

“He does.”

“That’s a shame. Maybe I can get a transfer so they can work together,” smiled Blaise. Harry could tell he cared for his staff, just like Astoria did with her maids.

Suddenly, Harry felt a hand caress his backside.

“What are you two talking about?” came Malfoy’s voice from behind him. Harry knew not to react as Malfoy gave his backside a gentle pinch, before standing to the side of him.

“I was contemplating putting in a transfer for one of your staff. Seamus Finnigan,” explained Blaise while looking between the two men, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Oh yes, I’ll have to see if I can risk losing a member of my staff,” said Malfoy, his voice slightly raised. He seemed to be panicking.

“I’ll continue doing my job, it was nice to speak to you, Mr Zabini,” said Harry before walking off.

The rest of the night seemed tense around Malfoy and Blaise. They would look at each other from across the room, as if they knew what the other was thinking. Harry tried to avoid being near both men, just in case an awkward question got brought up.

Toward the end of the evening, a few of the guests had gone home. The others were tipsy or drunk from the champagne they had consumed, including Malfoy and Astoria.

As Harry went to take a few empty flutes to the kitchen, he heard two voices quietly talking.

“What is this weird thing going on between you and Potter?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was Blaise and Malfoy.

“Thanking him in your speech, always looking at him, and don’t think I didn’t see what you did when you approached us,” Blaise spoke in an accusatory tone.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Zabini,” spat Malfoy, his words softly slurred.

“Draco, you like him, don’t you?” Harry felt his heartbeat quicken. If it got any louder, he was sure the men would be able to hear him.

“No,” responded Malfoy after a moment’s pause. “I don’t know.”

“Draco-”

“No. Of course I don’t. He’s staff. Astoria’s my wife.”

“I know you, Malfoy, even if you act like I don’t. This is dangerous territory. If your father found out-”

“Well he’s not going to!” Malfoy’s voice was raised, he was agitated, scared. “Because you’re not going to say anything. And everything will be fine.”

“You can’t just sleep on these feelings.”

“Yes, I can! I have to, Blaise. Can’t you see that?” There was a long pause. Harry stepped back, accidentally bashing his foot into a wall with a clash. In an attempt to make it look like he had only just arrived, Harry continued walking forwards and turned the corner to see the two men stood there, Malfoy’s cheeks pink.

“Oh, sorry,” said Harry sheepishly, “I was just heading to the kitchen.”

“Be careful, Draco,” said Blaise quietly before sauntering off. Malfoy stared at the ground for a few moments, standing as still as he could. Then, all of a sudden, he stormed over to Harry and grabbed onto his arms and with a pop, they disapparated.

Harry could never get used to it when he wasn’t in control. Especially when it was sprung upon him. He had been apparating for years now, but every time Malfoy made him do it, his stomach would churn, and he’d be confused and dizzy for the first few moments.

When the feeling finally stopped, he started to take in his surroundings. A strong damp smell filled his senses as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

“Lumos maxima,” said Malfoy, and his wand lit up. They were at the loch again.

“Malfoy?” asked Harry as he began to walk towards the slender figure.

“I’m sorry,” muttered Malfoy, slowly sinking to the ground. “I had to get away.”

“With me?” Harry sat next to him.

“Yes, with you.”

“Why?”

“Potter, don’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Malfoy looked at him. There was a slight irritation on his face, but other than that, he seemed nervous.

“You make me feel safe, Harry,” slowly Malfoy lay down on the wet grass at the foot of the loch. “You calm me down. I can be myself around you.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, but Malfoy wasn’t expecting a response. Instead, Harry lay down too, his arms by his side. For a while, they lay in silence, and it felt right. Just the small sound of Malfoy’s breathing, heavier due to the alcohol he had consumed.

Then, he pointed to the sky. “You see that there?”

“What?”

“The stars.”

“What about them?”

Malfoy clumsily grabbed his wand and drew out the constellation with it. The stars in the sky joined up together with lines.

“That constellation. It’s the constellation I’m named after,” explained Malfoy quietly. “Mother loves this constellation. It’s named after a dragon. Mother named me after it.”

“That’s beautiful,” said Harry softly, staring at the stars in the sky. “They’re twinkling. It’s like they know you’re talking about them.”

“Sometimes I think the stars twinkle when they know I’m happy,” said Malfoy with a sigh. Harry didn’t respond, but he could feel his cheeks going red. Did Malfoy just admit to being happy with him?

As Harry overthought every word that was said, Malfoy’s slim fingers slowly found their way to Harry’s and, carefully, their fingers intertwined together perfectly.


	13. Chapter 13

(Trigger warning: abuse and violence.)

The sound of birds tweeting woke Harry up. Opening his eyes, he noticed the sky had begun to get light. He didn’t remember falling asleep.

Looking to his side, he saw Malfoy, who was also fast asleep. Then, he looked to their hands. They were still linked together, fitting perfectly. Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself.

“Draco,” he said softly, squeezing the thin hand that his was wrapped around. “Draco, wake up.”

Malfoy stirred but didn’t wake, his eyes closed tighter, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Draco,” said Harry again a little louder this time. Malfoy’s eyes slowly opened, and he looked around, trying to take in his surroundings.

“Harry?” he whispered.

“It’s me. We fell asleep. I don’t know what time it is but it’s early. We need to go back to the manor.”

“No,” Malfoy closed his eyes again.

“You’ll get into trouble if you don’t,” said Harry.

“I don’t care,” yawned Malfoy. Trying his best not to chuckle, Harry shook his head. Malfoy looked very sweet, lying there curled up, his eyes closed still.

“You will do, Draco,” Harry spoke softly to him. Slowly Malfoy’s eyes opened again, and his silver eyes stared at Harry’s green ones.

“I know,” he muttered in defeat. Carefully Harry pulled him up, Malfoy’s body swayed to the side as he did, the alcohol clearly still in him. Taking another few moments to try and wake up, he looked down at their hands that were still holding onto each other. For an instant, Harry thought Malfoy would quickly pull their hands apart, shout at Harry, call him disgusting. But instead, Malfoy’s thumb carefully stroked over the prominent scar of the words ‘I must not tell lies’ that decorated the top of his hand.

Harry instantly felt comfort from this motion. It sent shivers up his spine and had the hair on his arms standing on end. Malfoy’s thumb was soft against the raised, scarred skin.

“We should go,” said Malfoy after a few moments silence.

“We should. I’ll apparate us back,” said Harry. Nodding, Malfoy gripped onto Harry’s hand harder, and they disapparated with a pop.

Back at the manor, Harry noticed that Malfoy was still sleepy as he stood clumsily. Without thinking, Harry put an arm around Malfoy, helping him to keep his balance.

“Sorry,” said Malfoy softly, his face close to Harry’s. Harry could feel his breath blow across his cheek. “I’m just very tired.”

“I know,” said Harry with a gentle tone, holding him even closer, if it was possible. The two walked through the manor corridors, Malfoy now clinging onto Harry, relying on him for support. The events of last night had completely tired him out, especially his conversation with Blaise, and the alcohol that resided in his body definitely did not help.

“Where in the name of Merlin have you been?” hissed an angry female voice from in front of them. The dawn was only just breaking outside, and the early morning sun barely shone through the large windows. In the dimly lit corridor, Harry could just about make out the figure of Astoria.

“Astoria,” slurred Draco quietly.

“Are you drunk?” asked Astoria angrily.

“He’s not,” said Harry reassuringly, “he’s just very tired.”

“Where have you been?”

Malfoy didn’t answer. Harry quickly caught onto the fact Malfoy hadn’t told Astoria about the loch and didn’t want to. It was his safe space, where he could go to escape everything in his life. Telling Astoria now would destroy that privacy from him.

“We were just walking around London,” lied Harry with a false smile. “Mr Malfoy wasn’t feeling tired and we went to a twenty-four-hour library. He ended up falling asleep for an hour or so, though.”

“This is ridiculous, your father is absolutely furious,” Astoria grabbed Malfoy from Harry’s grasp. Malfoy stumbled into her, groaning, and nuzzled his head into her shoulder sleepily.

“What are you going to tell him?” asked Harry nervously. Astoria shot a look at him, there was worry in her eyes.

“I’ll think of something, Potter. Now go to your room. I never want this to happen again, do you understand me?” And with that, Astoria dragged Malfoy to his bedroom. Harry stood there, watching them go. The jealousy was back. It should be him helping Malfoy to his room, him tucking him into the bed, him giving Malfoy a gentle kiss on the forehead to say goodnight.

Shaking his head, Harry spun around quickly on his heel and traipsed off. He shouldn’t be feeling like that, he was Malfoy’s _staff,_ that is _all_ he was.

***

Seamus rushed over to Harry, who was now stood outside Malfoy’s office.

“Harry,” he said breathlessly. There was fear in his eyes.

“Seamus? What’s wrong?”

“Lucius wants to see you. Both you and Mr Malfoy,” said Seamus quickly. “It doesn’t seem good.”

Harry’s heart dropped. Surely Astoria had thought of a good enough excuse to cover for them? Or did she tell him the truth out of spite? No, Harry thought, she was far too sweet to do anything like that. Besides, it was obvious Harry was with Malfoy last night, both disappeared while the party was still ongoing.

“Oh Merlin, okay,” said Harry as he moved towards the office and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” replied Malfoy. Harry stepped in.

“Malfoy, your father wants to see us. Both of us,” said Harry with nervousness in his voice. Malfoy froze, mid-sentence that he was writing. For a few moments, he didn’t move, he just stared down at the sheet of paper until his eyes went blurry. Then, he slowly looked up at Harry.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice strained.

The two men walked in silence towards Lucius’ office, Seamus trailing behind them, unsure what the situation was. Malfoy knocked on the door.

“Enter,” replied Lucius, reminding Harry of Malfoy.

“You wanted to see us, father?” said Malfoy confidently as he strode into the room. Harry traipsed behind him, his hands shaking from fear.

“Ah, yes,” Lucius said coolly, rising from his desk. He waved his wand quickly, which made the doors slam shut behind Harry, causing him to jump. “Draco, my son, why don’t you go and stand in the corner. Potter, come here.”

Malfoy and Harry looked at each other nervously before Malfoy headed towards the corner of the room. The room seemed to spin as Harry stepped towards Lucius, who peered down at him with evil eyes.

“Now, I heard you two had a little field trip, is that right?” said Lucius through gritted teeth. Harry didn’t respond, but his breathing hitched and became staggered. “We were all incredibly worried as to where you had gotten to. Astoria had gone out of her mind, searching the manor, calling out Draco’s name. Now, why in the name of Salazar do you think you can go around, taking my son here, there and everywhere, without telling anyone else, hmm?”

And then, Lucius struck Harry. Hard, with the silver snake head that sat at the top of his cane. The force knocked Harry to the ground and Lucius proceeded to beat him, kicking him in the ribs over and over, before kicking him once in the face.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Potter,” spat Lucius, “you will never be my son’s bodyguard again. Do you understand? You will work alongside Narcissa’s butlers.”

All the while, Malfoy stood by the wall, whimpering to himself, his grey eyes brimmed with tears.

***

In a groggy haze, Harry heard his door open and shut. He tried to look to see who it was but could only see a blurry figure. One eye was swollen shut and his lip had been cut open, his nose had definitely cracked out of place. The pain was unbearable, and after attempting to lift his head, he had to put it back on his blood-soaked pillow.

“Harry,” he heard the strained voice say. It was Malfoy.

“Mal-” Harry cut himself off with a whimper. It hurt too much to speak. Without saying anything, Malfoy carefully sat on the bed next to Harry, trying his best not to move the bed too much.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he said. There was a sincerity in his voice, and after sniffing, Harry realised he was crying. “I wanted to stop him.”

“Why didn’t you?” whispered Harry, trying to open his eyes but being unsuccessful.

“You know how scary he is. I’m so sorry,” Malfoy’s hand gently grabbed onto Harry’s limp one, squeezing it tight. Slowly his thumb stroked Harry’s hand, soothing him, comforting him. It felt nice.

“I’m not… Your butler… Anymore…” Harry said through intakes of breath from the pain in his ribs.

“I know. I’ll manage. I managed before. My mother’s lovely, Harry. I spoke to her before I came to see you. She feels bad. She’ll look after you.” Malfoy seemed to ramble on. Something Harry had never seen him do before. His sentences were short, he barely left room for breath, he was quite obviously nervous.

“Draco,” breathed Harry, attempting to sit up.

“No, don’t do that,” said Malfoy quickly, helping him lay back down carefully. “Let me help you.” Malfoy got up and switched on the lamp, making Harry groan as his head throbbed for the first time since he had woken up. The noise of Malfoy scrabbling about made Harry smile. He had gone into the bathroom and grabbed a cloth, got out Harry’s pyjamas and found a new pillowcase.

“Here,” Malfoy pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry’s nose, and with a crack, and a lot of pain, Harry’s nose was no longer broken. Seeing Malfoy cast a spell without saying any words reminded Harry of how much of a talented wizard he was. He was always top of the class with Hermione, he was exceptionally smart, but he had gotten himself into a bad place. A place he couldn’t help but get himself into.

“Do you ever wonder,” said Harry weakly as Malfoy started to mop up some of the blood on his face, “if things would’ve turned out differently… If I had accepted your hand?”

Malfoy paused, looking into Harry’s bright green eyes, the eyes he found himself lost in time and time again.

“All the time,” he said finally. They continued to be in each other’s company in silence, while Malfoy carefully cleaned Harry’s face. Just the gesture of Malfoy helping him made Harry’s eyes fill with tears. This man, years ago, would have laughed at Harry getting injured. Probably would have helped inflict it, too. But now, instead, he was tending to Harry’s wounds.

In this moment, Harry kept thinking back to when they were eleven. Malfoy’s outstretched hand, a smarmy grin spread across his mouth, attempting to make friends with one of the most famous kids in the Wizarding World. Though seemingly smug, there was an innocence to Malfoy then. He was only a boy, who just wanted to be Harry’s friend, who didn’t know any better than what his father had taught him for those eleven years he had been in the isolated environment. Harry remembered back to their conversation all those months ago, down in the basement with the dark artefacts. Malfoy had been such a lonely child, he’d had no friends growing up, and even when he made them, he felt as though they were only using him.

The thought made Harry’s heart lurch, and without thinking beforehand, he grabbed onto Malfoy’s hand.

“Harry?” Malfoy was shocked, but Harry didn’t respond to him. Slowly, he understood, and squeezed Harry’s hand tighter.

As Harry’s thumb started to move across Malfoy’s hand, he felt raised skin. He pulled the hand closer to his face so he could see. There were scars slicing across his hand, down to his wrist and up to his fingertips.

“What the-” said Harry before Malfoy snatched his hand away.

“Let me have a look at your ribs,” Malfoy attempted to change the subject, but Harry wasn’t having any of it.

“No. What is that on your hand?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Malfoy.”

“I’m not, Potter. It’s nothing,” spat Malfoy, his eyes narrowed to a glare.

“You’re always hiding something,” sighed Harry, slowly sitting himself up to Malfoy’s dismay. “Sneaky conversations with Blaise, trips to Borgin and Burkes that you don’t explain, now this.”

Malfoy paused and swallowed. “You heard our conversation?”

“Most of it.”

“What did you hear?”

“That you have some weird thing going on with me. Blaise could see it.”

Malfoy paused again. “You seem like you want to continue that sentence.” His eyes studied Harry. The way his fists clenched weakly, the way his breathing was staggered, how he couldn’t look Malfoy in the face.

“You’re using me, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Because you’re having arguments with Astoria. I’m just a little plaything until everything’s sorted out, aren’t I?”

Malfoy stood up in fury, throwing the cloth across the room, making Harry jump. Pain shot through his ribs and he suppressed a groan.

“No, Potter,” he turned around and Harry noticed his lip quivering. “No. How could you be so dense?”

“What?”

“Do you seriously think, out of all the people in this manor, out of all the people I know, I’d choose _you_ to toy around with? I thought you’d know me better by now.”

“What in Merlin’s name is that supposed to mean?”

“We _hated_ each other, Harry. I blamed you for _years_ for my father’s imprisonment. I was sick to the bone of you, constantly getting points for Gryffindor, destroying my time at Hogwarts by just being Harry Potter. After the war, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with you. When I heard you’d have to go to the workhouses, I fought for you to be a butler here because I thought I wanted to torture you,” Malfoy laughed and shook his head, facing the wall. “All that time, I didn’t realise I was pining for you.”

Harry was shocked. He sat there, his mouth open, staring at the back of Malfoy.

“You were what?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t realise,” Malfoy turned and laughed softly, shaking his head, his blonde hair falling into his face. “You must really be oblivious.”

“But, I-”

“I want to tell you the truth, Harry, but you must promise to not tell a soul.”

Harry’s heart raced. “Okay.”

Slowly, Malfoy sat back down on the bed and stared at his lap. “The reason Astoria and I are having problems, isn’t because I don’t love her. It’s because… I’m unable to _make_ love to her.”

“What does that mean?” asked Harry.

“Oh, don’t make me say it,” sighed Malfoy, then frowned as Harry’s expression didn’t change. “I can’t. I don’t love her in… _That_ way.”

Harry was silent for a few more moments before realisation washed over him. Malfoy wasn’t able to have sex with his own wife.

“Oh,” said Harry suddenly, looking down to the ground, his mouth sitting in the same shape.

“Ever since you arrived, I started to feel differently about her. I would look at you from across the room and my heart would flutter. I would tell myself it was nothing, shake myself off, but then you would pour my water. The closeness gave me butterflies. I would see you standing outside my office and I wanted to talk to you. Just talk. You made me realise I only married Astoria to please my parents, to carry on the family name, to live a somewhat normal life after the war. To bring a child into this world without the burden of Vol-” Malfoy looked down at his arms and began to rub where the dark mark lay. “Voldemort. Without the ideas of muggleborns and pure bloods being different. Without everything my father taught me. But then you came back into my life, and I realised that after all these years, all I ever wanted was you.”

Harry stayed silent, staring at Malfoy, who continued to look down at his lap. Slowly, Harry reached towards him and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the dark mark. It was faded now, it no longer moved, but it was there forever. A constant reminder of Malfoy’s terrible past.

Silently, Harry ran his finger down the marking, making Malfoy’s hair stand on end. Then, he pulled Malfoy’s arm towards him, and gently pressed his lips against the dark mark. Malfoy closed his eyes, feeling every sensation it gave him. Sparks shot through his arm; the dark mark felt alive again, but not as it did before. This time, it did not hurt. Instead, it felt warm, it felt as though it was filling Malfoy’s veins with love.

Moving his lips from the mark, Harry then pulled Malfoy close and their lips brushed together before they began to kiss each other, passionately, lovingly.

_Happily._


	14. Chapter 14

Hands shaking, Draco searched around his basement frantically. Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead as he rummaged carefully through the artefacts that lay still, some with silk cloths over, others covered in dust. Today he had to handle business at Borgin and Burkes without Potter. The thought of Potter not being there caused him a flutter of panic. Maybe, Draco thought, he had gotten to used to the idea of Potter being by his side.

Finally, he found it, the object he had been looking for. A small, black ball that shone in the dim light. The surface was smooth, if Draco didn’t know what it was, he would’ve thought it was just another regular ornament.

He was careful handling it, ensuring the contraption didn’t get set off, and slowly he placed it into a small box. Giving his wand a flick, he silently used the shrinking charm and slipped the now tiny box into the pocket of his dark green robes. Moving quickly, he walked out of the basement and closed the doors, casting alohomora and ensuring the doors were definitely locked before gliding away.

He entered the travelling room and grabbed the floo powder. Before throwing it down, he took a deep, nervous breath.

“Knockturn Alley,” he said, and with a puff of green smoke, he vanished.

Travelling always knocked Draco about a bit. There was something about it that tired him, whether it was apparition or floo powder. Either way, he now felt tired, which wasn’t ideal. But, when didn’t he feel tired nowadays? It seemed no matter how much sleep he acquired, his body always felt as though it would crumble beneath him, his eyelids always heavy. There was so much going on in his life, more than anyone else knew about, it exhausted him just being awake. And, as much as he desperately wanted to tell Potter everything that was happening, he knew he couldn’t. He would put so many lives in serious danger, and he didn’t want to do that. Not again. Not like back in Hogwarts.

The thoughts of his past shrouded his mind as he headed towards Borgin and Burkes. It seemed he couldn’t escape them anymore. A while back he was able to push them down, ignore them as much as possible. Every thought that entered his mind he could bat away by doing extra work, talking to Astoria, going for trips with her. But now it seemed as though nothing could get rid of them. Partially he blamed Potter, having him back in his life made everything harder. Every time Draco saw Potter’s face, he felt his scars ache. But, another part of him always wanted to be with Potter. There was a comfort to his voice, the same messy hair that he had all throughout Hogwarts, the same stubbornness and back-chatting. Potter made Draco feel like a kid again, in all the best ways possible.

The door swung open to Borgin and Burkes, knocking Draco out of his thoughts. There he saw Caractacus Burke stood behind the counter, a grin slowly seeping across his face as Caractacus saw his regular seller.

“Ah, Mr Malfoy,” he said in his slimy voice, sending shivers up Draco’s spine, “how may I help you today?”

“I have an artefact,” replied Draco, walking confidently over to the counter and putting his hand in his pocket. Draco always made sure to walk with his chin in the air and taking big, long strides. Even in situations he feared the most, he never wanted to look weak. He’d done enough of that in his days at Hogwarts. Though he was known as the school’s bully, he was just as notorious for being a wimp. Every time something mildly frightening happened, he’d get Crabbe and Goyle to sort it out for him, or he’d run away.

Draco didn’t want that for himself anymore. After the war, he re-evaluated how everyone saw him. No longer was he the frightened boy who was forced to follow Voldemort’s orders. Instead, he was brave, quiet, he kept himself to himself. In some sense, he wanted everyone to fear him, rather than laugh at him. And, to his genuine surprise, it worked. Though, he wasn’t sure whether people feared him for how he now portrayed himself, or for the fact his father was one of Voldemort’s most loyal followers, and Draco had seen more in two years than most wizards and witches would see in their lifetimes.

“What is it today?” asked Caractacus curiously, leaning over the counter slightly to try and get a closer look at the shrunken box Draco was pulling out of his robe pocket.

After placing the box on the counter, Draco tapped his wand on the lid, and the box grew thrice the size it had been. Caractacus instantly looked excited as slowly Draco pulled off the lid and carefully picked up the ball.

“What is it?”

“A very dangerous artefact,” Draco heard the door open behind him. He didn’t look around, but the sound of footsteps quietly making their way round the shop had him on edge. “When used, it releases sharp and poisonous spikes towards the victim,” said Draco.

“That sounds excellent,” said Caractacus excitedly, watching Draco place it back in the box.

“Be very careful, Mr Burke, I wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh, I will, Mr Malfoy,” Caractacus started doing the maths for the money. Thankfully, it was a lot more than Draco was expecting. His father would be very pleased about that.

As Draco walked out of the shop, shoving the money into his pocket, he felt someone following him. For a while, he continued on, chin up, but moving quicker than he usual pace. When the feeling didn’t subside, Draco turned into a deserted alley and spun round, facing the stalker.

“What do you want?” asked Draco, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown.

“We just wanted to talk,” came the response from a shadowed figure, and Draco saw two other men appear from behind it.

“I’m not talking to anyone,” said Draco. As he spun on his feel, he was faced with two other men, taller and stockier than him.

“Oh, I think you are,” the one spat, grabbing Draco by the neck and slamming him against the cold brick wall. He heard his head smack against the brickwork, and he groaned as the pain shot through him.

“What do you want from me?”

“We’re warning you again,” another man stepped forwards. It was the same man who he’d had a meeting with all those months ago in his office. The day Harry had saved him.

Harry.

Draco’s hand dropped down from his sleeve and into his hand. A flash of despair ran through his body as he realised, he couldn’t get help.

He, for his whole life, had been unable to produce a patronus. He’d tried, he had read up as much as he could about it, he’d hired tutors to attempt to teach him. But it seemed that no matter what, no memory was powerful enough, not even to produce a small version of the charm.

His hand began to shake as he knew he was in danger.

“We have now seen you selling illegal artefacts to the shop,” said the man, allowing the other to release Draco’s neck. All he wanted to do was cough and splutter, take in deep breaths, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his mouth shut, and he stared at the men in front of him. He didn’t want to look weak.

_He was not weak._

“And?” replied Draco, his voice hoarse but bold.

“We’ll get you, you and your family. We’ll get you all thrown into Azkaban. This is your final warning. If you don’t sort shit out, you’re done for.”

“You have no idea, have you?” laughed Draco. “Who do you work for? Someone in the ministry?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It certainly is, considering you are threatening me.”

“It’s none of your business, Malfoy,” spat another man who was stood to his right. “We’ve got you now.”

And then, the gentleman’s fist collided with Draco’s cheekbone, knocking him to the floor. His mouth filled with blood and he spat it out, trying to keep consciousness. He looked over his shoulder and saw the five men all walking away, not looking back, and they disappeared into the shadows of Knockturn Alley.

Draco sat there for a while, spitting out the blood that pooled in his mouth every now and then. He wasn’t sure whether he would be able to apparate home, his whole body felt weak, his mind numb. He was fighting unconsciousness, his eyelids drooping every so often, to which he would snap them open again. At this point, he felt as though he couldn’t find a reason to go home. His father would be furious he allowed himself to be so weak, his mother would get upset with his father for being so hard on her son. There seemed to be so little Draco wanted to be around for, maybe, he thought, he should just let himself stay here and deteriorate.

_Harry._

Slowly, Draco pulled himself to his feet.

_Harry._

Leaning against the wall, he breathed deeply, trying to soothe his throbbing cheek.

_He must go back for Harry._

With a pop, he apparated.

***

“There’s some roots over there that need digging up too, Harry,” said Narcissa’s soft voice as she pointed to a patch in the giant garden. The sun blazed down on them, causing them both to break out in a sweat. Today, Narcissa had decided to do some gardening, and Harry helped.

After everything that happened with Lucius, Harry had been sent to work for Narcissa. Lucius, of course, wanted Narcissa to use Harry as her personal servant, ordering him to do everything for her so she didn’t have to lift a finger.

Though, it was as if Lucius didn’t know his wife one bit. Instead, she had Harry help her with her tasks. These ranged from gardening, to cooking, and even to organising the threads for her as she embroidered. Narcissa tried to avoid using magic for lots of her hobbies. She had told Harry, “it’s taking all the fun out of it. Besides, I see it as cheating.” So, she embroidered with thread and needles, she gardened with shovels and spades, she cooked with wooden spoons and measuring jugs.

Though, spending time with her, had Harry thinking that she was extremely lonely. The hobbies she had delved herself into were very time consuming, especially without the use of magic, and she constantly chatted away to Harry. There were hours it would just be Narcissa talking, and she didn’t even notice, but Harry didn’t mind. The stories she told about her and Bellatrix as children entertained him, even the stories of how she and Lucius met.

His favourites, though, would always be those of Draco when he was a child – before Hogwarts.

Harry pondered over to the patch, shovel in hand, and began to dig at the root. He could feel the back of his neck burning, but he almost didn’t mind. Narcissa had made sure he had plenty of cold water, had even made him put on sunscreen before they headed to the gardens.

There was a loud pop behind them, and then a clatter of stones. They both jumped and turned around, to see Malfoy lay on the stones, his body exhausted, his face bleeding.

“Draco?” breathed Narcissa, tears instantly welling up in her round blue eyes. Harry found himself rushing over to the limp body without a second thought and carefully moved Malfoy’s head. His cheekbone was cut open, swelling bigger by the second and already darkening in a bruise.

“He’s okay,” called Harry to Narcissa, as Harry saw Malfoy’s eyes watching him.

“Harry,” whispered Malfoy, not looking away. It was as if the pain had melted away. Here Harry was, by his side. This was all Draco needed.

“Draco?” another voice called from behind them. Harry turned to see Astoria, running down the garden in bare feet, her long white dress flowing behind her. Sometimes Harry saw Astoria in the gardens just before dawn, in her white dresses, making her look like a ghost that haunted the grounds.

“Don’t leave me,” said Malfoy to Harry, who was now looking back down at him.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” replied Harry, his voice cracking. Suddenly, Astoria was by Malfoy’s side, and she fussed over him intently.

“We need to get him inside,” instructed Narcissa, crouching down beside the body that still lay on the rocks. Harry slowly pulled Malfoy up, keeping him steady in his arms.

But, as soon as they had stepped inside, Astoria took Malfoy off him and started leading him towards the stairs. Harry went to follow them, but felt a hand gently slide into his and pull him back. Looking behind him, he saw Narcissa with a forlorn look on her porcelain face.

“I’d leave them alone,” she said sadly, attempting a gentle smile and squeezing Harry’s hand, “we don’t want Lucius catching you with him, as much as my son would do better with you by his side. Better than anyone else, I think.”

Removing her hand, Narcissa flashed him one more smile, before walking back towards the garden. Harry stood there, frozen. The words replayed through his mind, over and over again.

_Better than anyone else._

***

Harry was back in the small room that he had began his time at the manor in. Dark, dreary, and consistently reminding him of the cupboard under the stairs. Having to share bathrooms with the other butlers. The perks, though, were that Ron’s room was only down the hall, and now they snuck out to visit each other every night like they had used to.

There was a soft knock on Harry’s door. Expecting it to be Ron, Harry didn’t bother with throwing on a shirt, and opened the door in just his trousers. But, on the other side, was Malfoy. The swelling in his cheek had gone down, he must’ve used an elixir on it, and the cut was on its way to healed.

“Malfoy?” said Harry in a shocked tone, suddenly embarrassed he hadn’t put on a shirt. Malfoy’s cheeks went pink, too, as he looked away respectfully.

“I just needed to talk to you for a moment.”

“Come in,” said Harry, now grabbing a shirt and quickly slipping it on. “What is it?”

Malfoy sat on his bed awkwardly, his eyes focused on the floor. “I need your help.”

“What with?”

“Today, I got in trouble. Those wizards you saved me from before, they had followed me into Borgin and Burkes while I was making a deal. Afterwards, they followed me down an alley. They began to threaten throwing me and my family in Azkaban, and when I grabbed my wand, I realised I couldn’t call for help.” Malfoy looked up at him with sad eyes and they glistened softly in the dim candlelight.

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to teach me how to form a patronus charm.”

“Patronus? Didn’t you get taught that already?”

“Yes,” said Malfoy sheepishly, looking down at his lap. Harry saw him start to pick at his knuckles, which were the worst they had been in a long time. Crouching in front of him, Harry placed his hand on top of Malfoy’s, getting him to stop.

“Draco… Are you unable to create a patronus?” asked Harry careful. The silence answered Harry’s question. With a small smile, Harry gripped onto Draco’s hand tighter. “Come on, then.”

***

They were back at the loch. The sky was pitch black, the stars twinkling above them. Harry could see Draco’s constellation. He always could see it, now. It was the first thing he searched for when looking into the night sky.

“You need to think of your happiest memory,” explained Harry as he pulled out his wand. “I’ve used the same one for years. It’s something I’m still unsure even was a memory. It’s of my mum and dad,” Harry smiled as he began to let the memory consume him. Then, he held out his wand, and said “Expecto patronum.”

A bright white flashed from the end of his wand, stretching as far as Malfoy could see. Then, a stag formed in front of them. The stag trotted around Malfoy, making him grin as it nudged its nose against his shoulder. The stag then galloped around the loch, on top of the water, on the bank, all around the two men who stood watching. Slowly, Harry allowed the memory to fade, and with it, the stag did, too.

“What if I can’t think of a happy enough memory?” asked Malfoy.

“You don’t know until you try.”

“But I have tried, so many times, Harry. Every time I thought of something, it didn’t work. Parties in the Slytherin common room, getting top grades one year, being on the Quidditch team. Even my wedding day didn’t make it work,” huffed Malfoy, crossing his arms as he already felt defeated.

“Just think of something, Malfoy. Anything you can. Let the memory consume you, take over you, so nothing else is in your mind. Anything at all and give it a try.”

First, Draco thought back to his wedding with Astoria. The way she looked when he walked down in the isle, the proud smiles of his mother and father. The way they held hands throughout the whole ceremony, how Astoria’s hazel brown eyes didn’t leave Draco’s face as they spoke their vows to each other.

“Expecto patronum,” said Draco, holding his wand out confidently and steadily. Nothing. Not even a beam of light.

Anger rose through Malfoy’s body as he threw his wand to the floor, “I told you, Potter.”

“Focus,” said Harry gently, picking up Malfoy’s wand and placing it back in his hand. “Think of a memory that every time you see the spot it was in, the person it was with, the outfit you were wearing, butterflies dance around your stomach. A time when the hair on your arms stood on end and your whole body felt warm. Think about the time you felt the safest, you felt genuine joy. It could be anything, Draco. Unwrapping a gift you desperately wanted on Christmas day, eating the most delicious meal with your family. It has to be a strong memory, something you can still feel inside you, something that still makes your heart race.”

Without saying anything else, Malfoy raised his wand. Eyes closed, he took a few deep breaths, before saying, “Expecto patronum.”

Slowly, before their very eyes, the wand produced a silver light which danced around the darkness. The light started to transform. They watched as gradually an animal formed, and started to walk towards them, striding with confidence.

A wolf. Draco’s patronus was a wolf.

Malfoy watched with eyes wide as the wolf circled the men, sniffing the area around them, before it disappeared. Malfoy had lost his concentration of the memory due to the shock of being able to produce a patronus, watching the wolf walk around so casually.

“A wolf,” breathed Harry as he finally looked over to Malfoy. He could just about see the pointed face beside him in the moonlight.

“A wolf,” repeated Malfoy.

“What was your memory?” asked Harry nosily. Smiling, Malfoy looked at Harry’s eager face. His body still felt warm as the memory only slightly lingered.

“When we were caught in the storm.”


	15. Chapter 15

It was a rainy, gloomy day. Harry could hardly drag himself out of his uncomfortable bed for the day’s work. Rain hammered down on his window and the sky was nothing but grey darkness. His yawns were only seconds apart.

Being back in the shared bathrooms irritated Harry. On days like these, he had to trek in the cold wearing nothing but a dressing gown, which was even worse when he walked back to his room.

“How’s Malfoy?” asked Ron quietly as the two men stood in front of the mirrors, brushing their teeth.

“Better,” replied Harry as he rinsed his brush under the faucet, “although I haven’t seen him for a while. Haven’t you?”

“No, he hasn’t really been at the office at all,” said Ron with a frown, “I’ve been helping some of the maids with Astoria because he’s hardly ever been there.”

“Oh, well at least that’s a nice change.”

“It is. Astoria’s nice, too, Hermione’s right.”

“So’s Narcissa. I almost prefer working for her than Draco,” laughed Harry as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Draco. It’s so weird hearing you say his first name,” said Ron in amusement. “What is going on between you two?”

“Never you mind that,” said Harry shyly, “we’re just friends.”

“You two are so bloody weird. Always blushing around each other, sharing weird looks,” Ron shook his head, “like a pair of schoolgirls.”

“Shut up Ron,” said Harry, waving his hand at Ron as he looked around.

“No one’s in here, mate.”

“Just in case.” Harry could feel the anxiety build up inside him. He still hadn’t forgotten what happened to him after he and Malfoy had disappeared to the loch. Sometimes his ribs still ached, the bruises were only just beginning to fade.

After getting himself ready, Harry met up with Ron and headed to the dining room for the usual breakfast. All the butlers and maids stood, waiting for the Malfoys to enter. And they did, one by one as usual, but Malfoy seemed out of sorts today. His hair wasn’t as pristine as it usually was, and there were dark circles under his eyes, darker than normal. Harry noticed Lucius walked with his chin cocked higher, he seemed to be more confident. Not that he never was, but today was different. Today felt very off to Harry.

As soon as the Malfoy’s sat, the butlers and maids swept into motion. As usual, Harry went round the table, pouring the water into the glasses, and made his way to Lucius. He swore as he poured the water, he could see the corner of Lucius’ mouth twitch, as if he had something on his mind he desperately wanted to get off, as if there was something that amused him. Attempting to ignore it, Harry moved to Malfoy, who just stared down at the table. Things seemed exactly how they were all those months ago, before Harry saved Malfoy, before everything between them had happened. It made Harry feel incredibly uneasy.

He made his way back to his post, keeping hold of the jug in his hand in case a refill was needed. Harry had to keep an eye on all the glasses. As soon as a quarter was left, he had to be straight over there topping it up, even if they weren’t going to drink any more water.

“My son has caused me great disappointment as of late,” said Lucius coolly as he cut into his eggs. Ron instantly looked at Harry, then the two men looked over at Hermione, who’s deep brown eyes were widened, staring straight back at them.

“Oh?” said Narcissa in a bored tone, not thinking anything of it. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Harry about Malfoy messing up, or disappointing anyone.

“Draco has been very, very stupid,” slowly Lucius rose from his seat and made his way towards Malfoy. Shoulders sinking, he looked like that timid boy back in Flourish and Blotts, hunching away from his father as much as he could, afraid.

Narcissa sighed. “Lucius.”

“No, no, Narcissa. He must learn,” Lucius’ bony fingers placed themselves on Malfoy’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly, fingernails digging into his clothes so firmly they threatened to break the skin that lay underneath.

Malfoy swallowed. “What have I done, father?”

“Some of my friends at the ministry approached me yesterday. Told me how you had been caught in Knockturn Alley, being assaulted by a few wizards. Is this true, Draco?”

“Lucius,” Narcissa tried again but Lucius shot her a glare.

“Yes, this is true, father,” responded Malfoy, his voice small.

“And guess what I found out was the inane, absolutely foolish stunt you pulled to have yourself assaulted? Selling illegal dark artefacts to Borgin and Burkes from our own personal, private collection,” explained Lucius in a quiet, cool voice. How he spoke had Harry’s hair standing up on end.

“Father-” began Malfoy but was cut off. In front of everyone, his mother and wife, all of the butlers and maids from the morning staff, Lucius slammed the metal snake head of his cane across Malfoy’s cheekbone, slicing it open. Astoria nearly screamed, clasping her hands over her mouth as she watched in horror. The staff all cowered; terrified Lucius would take his anger out on them next.

“You have been leaving the manor unprotected, without my permission, to sell _my_ dark artefacts behind my back?” Leaning forwards, Lucius hissed in Malfoy’s ear, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “you’re keep secrets from us, my boy, and I will weed them out of you, no matter what it takes,” and then he sauntered off, cloak trailing wildly behind him. The doors slammed shut, echoing throughout the manor, making Malfoy jump.

“Draco,” whispered Astoria, but before she could say anything else, Malfoy stood up – knocking his chair over in the process – and quickly rushed out of the room.

“I’ll go,” said Narcissa softly, then looked over to Harry, “if you begin separating my threads, that would be lovely,” she instructed before walking out the door Malfoy had left through. After a moment, Astoria stood up and motioned to Hermione and another half-blood named Beatrice, to follow her. Hermione shot Harry and Ron a sad glance, before rushing after the elegant figure who seemed to float out of the room.

“Sorting out her threads,” said Ron with a chuckle as the staff started to tidy away the cutlery, “what an easy job you have now, Harry.”

Harry would have given Ron a snarky comment back, but his mind was far too preoccupied. Malfoy had been doing these dealings _behind_ Lucius’ back, when Harry had always thought it was instructions from Lucius himself. There were many things Malfoy had been keeping from his father, and now Harry felt uneasy about him. If he was keeping something so big as these dealings from Lucius, then what could he be keeping from Harry? Was there something Malfoy was plotting, something big, something dangerous, with all this money he was curating from the dealings?

Harry’s mind swam with possibilities. What if Malfoy was attempting to take over the ministry himself, just to implement more torturous activities towards squibs and muggleborns? What if Malfoy was saving up to move away, far, far away, and leave Harry behind?

He had to find out.

***

“Mrs Malfoy,” said Harry as he folded Narcissa’s beautiful gowns, “may I be excused?”

Narcissa looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “Why?”

“I just, am feeling a bit under the weather today,” lied Harry, “I just need a few minutes.”

Smiling, Narcissa nodded. “Oh. Of course, Mr Potter,” she said, and just as Harry was about to leave the room, she called, “tell my son I said hello.”

Harry ended up passing Ron on his way, which seemed odd, because Malfoy should be in his office at this point. Ron was just as confused, saying Malfoy had dismissed him and to do work with Astoria instead. This worried Harry more, and he almost ran to Malfoy’s office.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door. He knew Malfoy wouldn’t let anyone in. He had to ask him straight up, what was going on. What was he hiding from his father? What was he hiding from _Harry_? Harry braced himself for maybe finding men in the office, having a secret meeting on how to destroy the muggleborns. Or Malfoy playing with another dark artefact, ready to sell for more money. Or Malfoy signing some illegal contracts-

Harry stopped. The blood ran cold through his veins.

Malfoy sat on his office chair, head in his hands, sobbing. Louder than Harry had ever heard him sob. There was a pool of blood and tears sitting on his desk. His knuckles were, too, dripping with blood.

Without another thought, Harry rushed over to him. All the situations he prosed slipped from his mind as he wrapped his arms around the frail body, pulling him close. Malfoy didn’t oppose, instead he pressed his face into Harry’s shoulder and wept. They stayed in this position for longer than Harry thought they would, until eventually, Malfoy’s sobs became gentle hiccups, and he pulled himself away.

“Draco,” said Harry gently, placing a hand on his.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Malfoy with an embarrassed smile.

Harry smiled kindly, “there’s no reason for you to apologise.” After taking hold of a tissue from the box on Malfoy’s desk, Harry placed it on one of his knuckles, pressing down slightly to help with the bleeding.

“I’m so weak,” said Malfoy quietly. Shaking his head, Harry gently placed a hand to Malfoy’s cheek.

“No, you’re not. You just need to stand up for yourself.”

That seemed to irk Malfoy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have to talk back. Let your father know he’s wrong.”

Malfoy laughed. “Are you kidding me? Have you ever tried to backchat him?”

“Plenty of times,” said Harry, bewildered.

“Then you got off lucky. I can’t, Harry. I can’t do that.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No, Potter!” Malfoy stood up angrily and started to pace his office, shaking his head violently. “You just don’t get it, do you? It’s not that simple. It’s not that easy. He’s done this my whole life.”

“I don’t know why you’re getting so angry,” said Harry calmly, which only made Malfoy even more mad.

“Because it’s you, you and your attitude towards things. Acting like everything’s easy peasy. Maybe it is when you’re the chosen one, but not when you’re me. You’re lucky, you know that? Everything got handed to you your whole life. Help when you needed it, time when you needed it. Everyone ran around for you, did all your dirty work for you. I had to battle all of my own demons on my own. Pansy, Blaise, Theo, they never understood. Everyone thought I was a spoilt kid who got everything he wanted just because my father was rich. That wasn’t the case.”

“You sure as hell made it seem like it,” spat Harry. Malfoy turned and glared at him, and instantly he knew he had messed up.

“Get the fuck out of my sight, Potter. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.”

As Harry left, it seemed the day got gloomier and the rain got heavier.

***

Since the argument, Malfoy and Harry’s relationship was strained. Whenever Harry saw him, there was a thick tenseness in the air, and Harry didn’t like it one bit.

Even so, that didn’t stop him from excusing himself from Narcissa to spend time with Malfoy in secret. Although, Narcissa knew, and she was very accepting of it. Whether Malfoy had told her about them Harry didn’t know, but he was thankful all the same.

But it seemed their relationship had become too strained to be able to have a decent conversation now.

Malfoy had gotten angry once again at his father, but this time for not allowing Harry to be his bodyguard anymore. Malfoy was now too scared to leave the manor, in case those men were around waiting for him.

“You need to get over it,” said Harry sternly, unable to hide how irritated he felt. “You can’t rely on me forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re whining because you can’t have me with you. Do you think I had bodyguards when Voldemort was trying to kill me? No. I had to stand up for myself, I had to protect myself. Why can’t you do the same?”

“Things are different now, Harry,” said Malfoy calmly, staring at his hands.

“So? Every day is different. You can’t hide in here forever just because of a few wizards.”

“You’re being extremely unfair.”

“Am I? Or are you?” Harry’s face was red with anger now. He had no idea what came over him, what made him suddenly so furious with the beautiful figure that sat before him, but he couldn’t help himself. “You rely on me so often. It’s as if you can’t live without me by your side. How do you think that makes me feel? Am I going to have to look after you forever?”

“I didn’t ask for you to look after me, Potter.”

“Yes, you did. You know you did. I’m sick of it, Malfoy, sometimes I feel like you don’t value my feelings over yours. What about when I’m scared? When I watch Lucius walk around with that cane, afraid he’s going to beat me up again like he has done?”

“Harry-”

“I need some air,” said Harry, storming out of the office before he could think twice. His blood boiled as he stormed through the corridors of the manor, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down before returning to Narcissa. There was no logical explanation as to why Harry had become so fired up, but there it was, all of these feelings he felt he had suppressed because Malfoy needed him to suppress them, now out in the open.

It felt good. But not for long.

After a few hours of Harry staying quiet with Narcissa, he decided to go and apologise before dinner.

He made his way to the office, and just before he opened the door, he heard voices. Voices he didn’t recognise. Carefully he pressed his ear up to the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said Malfoy in a hushed tone.

“We know,” said the unfamiliar voice, “but we received the owl with three red ribbons tied to his foot. Malfoy, we couldn’t ignore the message.”

“It’s dangerous,” hissed Malfoy back, “if he catches you here, if _anyone_ catches you here-”

“They _won’t_ ,” responded a second voice. “You need to tell us the capacity of danger you’re in.”

“He stopped my bodyguard from travelling with me, so I had to do deals on my own. I got caught. He’s focusing in intently on me.”

“You need to continue your work, Malfoy, you cannot stop. Not now. We’re close.”

“You keep telling me we’re close,” Malfoy seemed irritated, “and we don’t get any closer.”

“We’re compiling the evidence. We fear there are still elements you are withholding from us.”

Malfoy sighed, “I’ve given you all I can. I’m sorry.”

“Continue the communications. If you send another three red ribbons, we will have to put you in hiding,” one of the men explained, to which Malfoy didn’t respond. Then, Harry heard a pop, signifying they had disapparated.

The door swung open and Harry stormed in. For a moment, Malfoy’s expression read pure horror as all the blood drained from his face.

“Harry,” he breathed deeply, “I thought you were-”

“Lucius?”

“Please, keep your voice down.”

“Why should I?”

“Harry-”

“No. What the fuck was all that, Malfoy? What the fuck?”

“I can’t explain, I’m sorry,” said Malfoy coldly.

“You’re hiding so much from me. From everyone. Why?”

“There are things I cannot tell you, Harry. If I did, it would destroy everything.”

“Well congratulations, because you’ve destroyed all my trust in you.”

Malfoy swallowed, “now you’re being unfair.”

“Am I? Or are you? There are so many things you refuse to tell me. The dealings at Borgin and Burkes, the men who have twice, now, attacked you, and now this secret meeting? Red ribbons? What the fuck?”

“Keep your voice down!” hissed Malfoy angrily, there was venom dripping in his speech.

Harry shook his head, letting out a laugh. “You made me believe you trusted me. You made me believe I was worth more than my position in your manor.”

“Well, you’re not. You’re just my butler. That’s all you are. That’s all you can be. And that’s all you will be.”

Blood boiling, Harry pulled out his wand he now kept concealed in his jacket and pointed it at Malfoy.

With a hard expression, arms crossed, Malfoy snarled. “What are you going to do, Potter? Sectumsempra me again?”

Harry stared at him. At this moment, he felt nothing but hate. It was as if he were back at Hogwarts, all that anger he felt when he found out about Katie Bell, all the pain he felt when he saw Malfoy point his wand at Dumbledore. Hands beginning to shake, Harry finally lowered his wand. There was nothing he wanted to say to Malfoy anymore.

The two men stared at each other.

Just as Malfoy went to open his mouth, Harry disapparated.

He was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

Stomach churning, Harry apparated into the dark room. With a flick of his wand, all the lights switched on, and he saw his familiar apartment. Though, it brought him no comfort, only a faint feeling of misery. Knowing Malfoy wouldn’t be able to follow him here, he realised this would be his best bet.

Before he decided to live a life hidden from the Malfoys.

Quickly, Harry collected his things, chucking them into the first bag he found. A few clothes, his toothbrush.

As he rushed around, something caught his eye. A book, sitting on his bedside table, a thin layer of dust covering the cover. Slowly, he picked it up, his hands beginning to shake.

 _Flowers in the Attic_. It filled him with immense sadness he couldn’t get rid of. The pit of his stomach twisted, remembering back to the day Malfoy had questioned him about it. Back to the time when things felt they could be okay, even with Lucius as the minister. But now, that was all gone, and Harry didn’t think it would ever be able to return.

He placed the book back down on the bedside table, not wanting to bring those memories with him. Solemnly, he continued to grab a few important items, one being the photo album that Hagrid had given him in his first year of Hogwarts, and then he used a shrinking charm on the bag.

Looking around his apartment for the last time, he felt a few tears threaten to fall. Although he hated the apartment, it held memories here, memories with Ginny, Ron, Hermione, their kids. Harry didn’t know if he’d ever see this apartment again. After switching off the lights, he grabbed some floo powder.

***

“Harry?” called a familiar voice as he arrived at his destination. Suddenly, Mrs Weasley burst out the door to the burrow and ran to him before engulfing him in a warm, loving hug.

“Hullo Mrs Weasley,” said Harry as he wrapped his arms around her plump frame.

“What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?” asked Mrs Weasley, holding him at arm’s length. Her eyes were always kind, looking at Harry as if he were her own son. She was constantly inviting, extremely easy to talk to about any issue Harry was having.

“I need to ask the biggest favour,” he swallowed, “I’ve ran away from the manor.”

Mrs Weasley paused for a moment. “Get inside.”

They walked in and she sent Harry straight over to the burrow’s lounge, where Harry found George and Mr Weasley.

“Harry?” they both said in unison, with the same confused tone.

“Sit down, would you like a cup of tea?” asked Mrs Weasley, to which Harry responded in a shake of the head. She sat opposite him, an inquisitive look on her gentle face.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

“I just want to know what’s happening, Harry,” she reached forwards and took his hand in hers, “Harry here has run away from the manor.”

“You’ve run away?” exclaimed George, his eyes widened, “isn’t that illegal?”

“Yes,” said Harry uncomfortably.

“How in Merlin did you manage this?” asked Mr Weasley.

“It’s a long story,” mumbled Harry, looking down at his lap. With a squeeze of his hand, Mrs Weasley ushered him to tell her.

“We’re all ears,” she cooed.

“It’s complicated, and I am worried you will judge me for what I have to tell you,” swallowing, Harry began his story.

“When Draco made me his bodyguard, we started spending lots of time together. We’d take day trips out, I had to go everywhere with him, you see. But we started getting along extremely well, much more than I ever thought I would. And one night, we got drunk in the Three Broomsticks. When we went back to the manor, we… Kissed,” Harry didn’t dare to look at any of the faces staring at him, not wanting to see their reactions.

“We really fell for each other, then. Well, at least I fell for him. We’d sneak out of the manor to a place he liked to go and spend time together; we’d continue our day trips. Then Lucius found out and attacked me right in front of Draco. Told us I was no longer his bodyguard. Our relationship we had together became extremely strained, and we constantly argued, until I just couldn’t take it anymore,” finally, Harry looked up at Mrs Weasley. To his surprise, her eyes were twinkling with understanding, a small smile on her thin lips.

“I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to be around him anymore. Seeing him would hurt me too much. Every time we spoke, it was an argument, and it pained me so much,” shaking his head, Harry looked back down to his lap, tears forming in his eyes. He attempted to blink them away but failed. “Oh, Mrs Weasley, I think I’m in love with him.”

“In love with Draco Malfoy,” said George from across the room. Harry had almost forgotten he was there. “Well, I guess _someone_ has to be,” he joked. Harry tried to look stern but couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Have you told anyone else? Ron?” asked Mrs Weasley.

“No. I think Ron and Hermione suspected something was going on, but they don’t even know I ran away yet.”

“You’ve been having to deal with this on your own?” Harry nodded. “Oh, you poor thing,” Mrs Weasley squeezed his hand tighter.

“Sounds like you need a drink,” said Mr Weasley as he got up and hobbled over to his drink’s cabinet. He poured Harry a whiskey, handing it to him with a smile.

“What is it you need from us, dear?” asked Mrs Weasley.

“I need somewhere to stay. I know it’s so much to ask, but I have nowhere else to go.”

“Of course you can stay,” chimed Mr Weasley with a large smile, “with only George around and Molly and I getting old, it’s hard to keep up the housekeeping.”

“I’m not that old,” huffed Mrs Weasley, but a smile stayed firmly on her face.

“Yeah, I’m sure we can squeeze you in,” said George, “it’ll be nice to have someone else around for a change.”

“How are you, George?” asked Harry.

“Better than before. Got discharged a few weeks ago. Seeing a mind healer twice a week, but they’re going to put it down to once a week soon. They’re impressed with my progress.”

“I’m so glad,” said Harry with a smile.

“Me too. Your visit with Ron cheered me up, even if it was brief. Brought some normality back. But I’m definitely way better at wizard’s chess now, so Ron better watch out,” chuckled George.

“Harry, you can take Ron’s room,” said Molly, getting herself up, “I’ll go and get it ready for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley,” said Harry, then he looked over at Mr Weasley, “you too, Mr Weasley. I’m so grateful for everything you do for me.”

“There’s no need to thank us,” Mr Weasley smiled, “you are family.”

Looking down at the glass of whiskey in his hand, Harry couldn’t help but smile as more tears filled his eyes. He had always wished there were something he could do in return for the Weasleys, they had nurtured him since he was twelve years old, and still to this day treated him as their own son or brother. Even after his breakup with Ginny.

“Is there anything I can do in return?” asked Harry suddenly, looking up at Mr Weasley who was now reading a copy of The Prophet.

“Harry, my boy, you can help around the house when we need it. And keep George company.”

“That would be nice,” said George with a small smile. Nodding, Harry shot him a grin before drinking the remainder of what was left in his glass.

***

It had been a restless night for Harry. He’d tossed and turned all night long, unable to switch off his thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Malfoy in front of him, the pained look on his face as they argued. How his mouth had opened as if he were about to apologise before Harry disapparated. How his eyes seemed duller than they had been, darker circles decorating the underneath of his eyes, his cheekbones looking more sunken than Harry remembered. Thinking back, Harry wished he had noticed earlier and asked Malfoy if he was okay. The meeting he’d had seemed serious, and Harry couldn’t figure it out.

Three red ribbons tied to an owl. What could it mean? What was Malfoy up to? His shocked expression told Harry it was something bad, but his cool demeaner when Harry had questioned his motives. He remembered how panicked Malfoy had seemed when he thought it was Lucius, when Harry raised his voice above a whisper, as if he was worried Lucius would hear him doing something he shouldn’t be.

But the more Harry thought about it, the dizzier his thoughts were and the churning feeling in his stomach returned. He got up and headed down the many flights of stairs that held the burrow up. Water was what he needed, and maybe some fresh air.

Harry poured himself a glass, which he very nearly spilled all over him when he saw a figure move in by him. For a moment, he thought the figure resembled Malfoy and his heart leapt from his chest, until he realised it was George.

“George?” asked Harry, placing the glass of water down as his hand shook too much to hold it steady.

“Sorry, mate,” said George quietly, waving his wand to light a candle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine,” responded Harry with a gentle smile, “what are you doing up?”

“I have trouble sleeping. It’s one of the potions the mind healers are trialling me on. Instructions tell me I have to take it at night for it to work, but it makes me wide awake and sleep all day.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“It is, but at least I get to see the sun rise. Care to join me?”

Nodding, Harry followed George outside the burrow. Since Harry’s last visit, a garden bench had been placed outside the front door. It must be for George to watch the sunset on, thought Harry, as he noticed the sun was beginning to rise right in front of them. Both the men sat down in silence on the bench and watched the sun slowly enter the sky.

“It really makes you think about everything,” said George after a long moment of quiet.

“What, the sun?”

“Yeah. Just seeing it go into the sky like that, makes me think about all the things in life Fred’s missing.”

“George,” said Harry gently before placing a hand on top of George’s.

“It’s okay. I hate that he has missed out on so much, and so little, such as the sunrise. But I feel him here with me all the time. As if us being twins made us connected even after death. It’s as though he’s looking through my eyes, watching the sun with me, experiencing life with me.”

George looked at Harry. “They’re never really gone, you know that. Everyone we lost in the battle, everyone before, everyone after. Sirius, Remus, Fred, your mum and dad. They’re not really gone,” George looked back out to the sunrise.

“I know,” answered Harry quietly, “Sirius reminded me of that when I faced Voldemort.”

“You’ve never told me that story.”

“It’s a hard one to relive,” admitted Harry, shaking his head, “it’s the last time I saw my family.”

George nodded in response. Their hands gripped together, comforting each other. Sometimes it felt as though George was the only person who could understand the pain Harry had been through, losing someone as close as a twin.

But most of the time Harry just felt alone.

The only time he had truly felt seen, felt understood, was with Draco. Those few moments where they would speak about the past, almost comparing their experiences, brought comfort to him. Draco had been through so much more than Harry had realised during his Hogwarts years. The mental torture he had experienced from having Voldemort use the manor as his grounds followed him through to adulthood, leaving him with nightly terrors. There were a few times Harry had walked past a room with him and Draco had frozen, just for a few seconds, before continuing. There were rooms Draco refused to even enter, and Harry suspected they were rooms that had been used to torture witches and wizards.

Then, it hit Harry.

The reason the room felt so familiar when Draco had been looking for dark artefacts, why he had always seemed so tense when they went in there. It was the cellar Bellatrix had used to hold prisoners, where Harry and Ron had ended up for a short amount of time, just before Dobby was murdered.

Draco had to relive those experiences every time he had to make a dodgy deal at Borgin and Burkes, which to Harry’s current knowledge, was nothing to do with Lucius as he had originally thought. There was something else, something serious, going on and Draco had to put himself through hell every time he needed to get a dark artefact.

Thoughts crowded Harry’s mind, and George noticed.

Gently, he squeezed Harry’s hand, reminding him that he was there, he was safe.

***

Harry wasn’t safe for very long.

Two days after his arrival at the burrow, he entered the kitchen to a panicked Mr and Mrs Weasley.

“What’s happening?” asked Harry, eyebrows furrowed as the couple stood close together, tears running down Mrs Weasley’s face.

Without saying anything, she placed a piece of paper in front of Harry.

There, he saw his own face. A poster similar to the ones used when he was hunting horcruxes.

 _Missing: Harry Potter,_ the poster read, _possibly dangerous. Lucius Malfoy will award 100,400 galleons and freedom to the person who finds him and brings him to the ministry._

“No,” breathed Harry, shaking his head. Lucius Malfoy had placed a bounty on him.

“We’re so sorry, dear,” said Molly through tears, “this has been sent to all the witches and wizards.”

“Mrs Weasley,” said Harry, looking over at her. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“We’re going to do everything we can to keep you safe,” said Mr Weasley with a nod, and Mrs Weasley then nodded too.

“I can’t put you in danger, not again.”

“Nonsense. You’re going to stay in the attic. We will cast protection spells on it every hour to ensure no one can track you down. But you are not to leave the attic until we know you are safe,” Mr Weasley’s voice had a sternness to it.

“It could be days, but it could be months,” stated Mrs Weasley, sadness in her voice.

“But we will do whatever we can to help you,” said George from behind Harry. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ve got you.”

***

The Weasleys had automatically set to work, setting up the attic with Harry so it was sustainable for him to live in. There were piles of junk up there, including boxes and boxes of memories Harry was sure he’d end up looking through when boredom struck. While Mr and Mrs Weasley dusted away the cobwebs, George and Harry brought up a mattress and bedding.

After a few hours, it certainly looked more homely. Cluttered, but homely. Harry would have to get used to it.

Mr Weasley was the first to recite the spell, muttering “protego totalum” over and over again, all the way around the attic room until it was completely sealed. Memories flashed in Harry’s mind back to Epping forest, when Hermione used a protection spell so the snatchers couldn’t find them.

That night, there was a large thunderstorm. Harry was sure it reached across most of Britain. The thunder crashed loudly over the burrow, lightning flashing every few seconds. The rain battered down so hard on the window Harry thought it might break.

Though the storm sounded scary, it brought Harry an immense feeling of comfort. He dragged the mattress over to the window and lay down, watching the forks of lightning decorate the dark sky.

As he gazed out of the window, he couldn’t help but wonder if Draco was also watching the storm.

Though, Harry didn’t need to wonder. Because miles away, in the comfort of his candle lit bedroom, Draco sat on his window seat, knees pulled to his chest. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched the storm that was just as strong above the manor, remembering the time he danced in the rain with Harry.

A small smile pulled at Draco’s lips for the first time since Harry had disappeared.


	17. Chapter 17

“Is he here?” Harry heard as he groggily began to wake up. The voice was familiar, a soft female voice with an edge of concern.

“Mum, please,” said another, and Harry knew who it was in an instant.

“It’s unsafe,” began Mrs Weasley, before Harry made an entrance into the room. He knew he shouldn’t exit the attic, but hearing his best friends beg Mrs Weasley just to know he’s safe made him take the risk.

“Oh, Harry,” exclaimed Hermione as she ran over to him, engulfing him in the biggest hug he had in a long time. It had been two weeks since he had left the manor and so far, he appeared to be safe.

“Hermione,” said Harry with a lump in his throat. Feeling her embrace comforted him, seeing Hermione and Ron made him feel emotional. It had felt like an eternity since he last spoke to them.

“Harry, back up to the attic right now,” said Mrs Weasley in a serious tone. Nodding, Harry took Hermione’s hand and they headed up the flights of stairs quickly, out of breath once they had reached the top.

“This is homely,” scoffed Ron as he looked around the room. After two weeks, the attic had gotten a small makeover. Still the boxes stayed shoved against the walls, but Harry now had an actual bed and a chest of drawers for his clothes.

“You should’ve seen it before,” laughed Harry, sitting on his bed, which creaked with every movement. He kept it underneath the window, though it was at an awkward angle, just in case another storm brewed, and he could watch it, imagining that Malfoy was watching it, too.

“How _are_ you?” asked Hermione, sitting next to him and placing a small hand on top of his. Harry looked at her, her dark brown eyes were filled with concern, dancing between his green ones quickly. A frown furrowed her eyebrows and she appeared to be examining his face for any sign of a jolt, or an expression that could be showing his true feelings.

“I’m okay,” said Harry genuinely, with a small nod. “I wasn’t when I first got here. But it’s getting easier.”

“Mate, it was extremely risky, you doing this,” said Ron with a shake of his head, “Lucius is absolutely furious.”

“He’s been taking it out on the staff, Harry,” said Hermione, obviously trying to not worry Harry, but of course he was going to worry. “And Malfoy.”

“He has? How is Draco?” asked Harry quickly, giving her hand a squeeze so she’d respond fast.

“Not good,” answered Hermione with a forlorn smile, “not good at all. He’s really torn up about it. He’s been drinking every night and has been arguing nonstop with his staff. Astoria desperately wants you to come back.”

Harry scoffed, “yeah right.”

“Harry,” Hermione looked at him, “do you seriously not think she understands the situation at hand?” Harry’s eyes widened as he stared at his best friend.

“She knows?” he whispered.

“Of _course_ she knows, Harry. She’s the reason I know. She found out when you came back after you had disappeared from the party. He told her everything, Harry. She knows _everything_.”

“And she still wants me back?”

“She said you complete Draco.”

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. He couldn’t believe what Hermione was saying. He completed Draco? Not only that, Draco’s own wife believed this to be true. Harry could feel the tops of his ears burning. There was nothing more Harry wanted than to be with Draco right at that moment. To feel their hands intertwined, to feel the warmth of Draco’s breath on his neck. The warm, comforting embrace Draco would give him, even though his frame was so small it didn’t seem like hugging him would do anything. Draco’s hugs caused Harry great relief, relief from the monsters that resided daily in his mind.

“I can’t go back,” said Harry after a long pause, “Not now. Lucius will kill me.”

“We know,” said Ron, shuffling awkwardly. The three best friends knew Harry was now in danger. If he didn’t return, he could be captured and tortured. Yet, if he did return, he would be tortured for leaving. It was a losing battle, one that Harry felt he didn’t have the strength for. Not now. Not anymore. He’d already battled once in his life, had to hide from everyone and everything.

The situation flooded bad memories back into his mind. He could feel the fear seventeen-year-old Harry felt when he was tracking down the horcruxes. Every noise that was made in the burrow had him in a fearsome frenzy, listening out more, waiting for someone to barge into the attic and steal him. The release of the breath when he heard Mrs Weasley’s voice after a creak, or seeing George enter the attic just so he wasn’t lonely.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Harry’s voice was quiet as he stared down to the floor, attempting to fight away frightened tears.

“Oh, Harry,” sighed Hermione, placing a hand on his and giving it a squeeze. “You’ve gotten through something like this before, remember? It felt like there would never be an end when we were seventeen. It all worked out in the end.”

“Only because I killed Voldemort.”

“Then you will just have to kill Lucius,” said Ron matter-of-factly, which had Harry chuckling.

“There is one more thing, Harry, and I really didn’t want to have to tell you,” Hermione’s voice trailed off as she refused to make eye contact with her best friend.

“What’s that?”

Ron answered instead. “Lucius is so angry about you leaving that he says he’s going to change some rules until you’re found. Make things more tough so people will be more likely to try and find you.”

“Like what?”

“He wants to send all muggleborns to the workhouses,” said Ron. It took Harry a moment to understand, to realise what it would affect if that was implemented. Then, he looked up at the girl who sat before him, who now seemed so small, so delicate.

“Hermione,” whispered Harry. She just shook her head in response, keeping her eyes to the floor. Now, it was all different.

Hermione’s life was in Harry’s hands.

***

Harry had been having sleepless nights. He hadn’t left the attic in four days unless to use the bathroom. Even George had tried to get him to go on a protected walk around the grounds of the burrow, but Harry wouldn’t budge.

He couldn’t stop thinking everything over. Thinking about how any moment now, Hermione could be forcefully taken away to go to the workhouses. How she must be living every second in fear, constant nervous butterflies fluttering around her stomach causing her to feel sick.

Tonight was yet another restless night for Harry. He had been plagued by a nightmare early into the night, causing him to lie awake after midnight. The moonlight shone through the thin curtains, softly illuminating the cramped room.

But then it became brighter, and brighter, until Harry realised it was no longer the moon. Looking to his side, he noticed a silver ball of light flickering. Frowning, he slowly sat up, trying to figure out what it was. For a split second, he could see an ear of an animal, but then the light disappeared completely.

Shaking his head, Harry lay back down in the bed. Maybe it was George trying to get his attention again. He’d been doing that, especially with some old inventions of his and Fred’s to try and entice Harry out of the room to have fun.

Then, the light returned, except it was bigger this time.

“I’m not in the mood, George,” said Harry, but the light didn’t go away. It got closer to him, and he swore this time he could see two eyes peering at him. But again, the light flickered, and went out.

Switching on the lamp next to him and putting on his glasses, Harry sat up in his bed. Now his heart was racing. Was this some sort of spell he hadn’t known of yet? One that was keeping tabs on Harry? Had someone found him, one of Lucius’ followers?

Palms starting to sweat, Harry squinted at the corner of the room where the beam of light had been. There was no longer a trace of it, not even a flicker, but Harry couldn’t rest.

It had been ten minutes before the light came back. But this time, it kept growing and growing. Harry couldn’t do anything but stare, not even reach for his wand that sat on his bedside table.

Then, the figure of a wolf revealed itself. Slowly, it approached Harry, staring directly at him in the eyes.

Draco.

“Are you hurt?” asked Harry. The patronus continued watching him, then slowly turned around and began to walk, disappearing through the door, leaving Harry in darkness.

Finally grabbing his wand, Harry rushed after the wolf. He found it making it’s way down the stairs and he made the choice to follow. Looking at the bedroom where Mr and Mrs Weasley slept, he whispered, “I’m sorry,” before turning and heading down the stairs too.

***

Harry had been following the wolf for twenty minutes. Gradually, the wolf was fading, and Harry feared that at any moment it would completely disappear. How it had arrived to him had Harry thinking Draco was injured, and where he was, Harry didn’t know. All he could do was follow the patronus, who’s light was becoming more and more dim.

Then, it disappeared. Harry stopped in his tracks, frantically looking around to see if it would reappear anywhere. Heart racing, he could hear the blood pumping in his ears as his breath got quicker.

Suddenly, there it was again, watching him coolly, like Draco always did. Even when in pain, even when weak, Draco would remain calm and collected, unlike his days at Hogwarts. With a nod of its head, the wolf turned and began to walk again. The light was still dim, so Harry made a point of walking quicker than before, ensuring he’d reach the destination before Draco got too weak.

But, unfortunately, thirty minutes later, the wolf stopped. They had reached the outskirts of a village, one Harry knew to belong to wizards and witches.

 _Through there,_ Harry heard in his head, _travel north._

He looked at the wolf one last time, a lump in his throat, as he nodded. The wolf faded. Harry was alone. He didn’t know whether Draco would be able to build up the strength to produce a full body patronus, which was exactly what Harry needed in order to find him.

Wand firmly in hand, Harry continued on, entering the village. Streetlamps decorated the empty roads, everyone tucked up in bed in the cold early morning. It hadn’t even reached time for the morning chorus yet.

As Harry made his way through the small village, he heard a noise behind him. Almost expecting the wolf again, he turned around, but was instantly hit with a hex. A sharp pain shot through his torso as he fell to the ground, clutching where it had hit. He looked up, seeing a man pointing his wand at Harry.

“I found you,” he said with a grin, “I will take you to Lucius.”

“You will do no such thing,” said Harry breathlessly before getting hit by another hex. This time it hit his arm, causing him to yowl in pain.

“I will take you to Lucius and win the reward.” The man began stampeding towards him, and without a second thought, Harry disapparated.

It took a lot of strength from him, and as soon as he reappeared with a pop, he cried out in pain. His chest and arm burned from the hex and he had to take a few moments to calm himself down. Lifting up his shirt, he looked at his torso. A deep purple mark decorated it, looking almost like a bruise. It wasn’t serious, it was supposed to be enough to harm Harry for a limited amount of time while the attacker grabbed him. But, of course, Harry was too clever and too strong for that. Sometimes, he thought, people must forget that he defeated Lord Voldemort.

The light appeared again. But this time, it did not become the wolf. Instead, the silver light approached him, flickering between being bright and dim. Slowly, it crept its way towards Harry’s ear.

 _The loch,_ Harry heard, before the light faded.

Harry disapparated.

***

“Draco!” yelled Harry, seeing the limp body heaped on the grass. Kneeling down beside him, Harry rolled Draco’s body over.

“My chest,” wheezed Draco, his eyes attempting to stay open but failing. Quickly, Harry pulled off Draco’s shirt, to reveal his thin body. Stuck in his chest were little black pins, about twenty of them. Surrounding those was a grey pattern, which almost looked like cobwebs tattooed onto Draco’s skin. They were getting darker and spreading.

“What’s going on?” asked Harry.

“Pull…” was all Draco could manage before he closed his eyes. Harry started pulling out the pins and throwing them aside, desperately talking to Draco to try and keep him conscious.

Once the last pin was pulled out, he could see Draco’s skin begin to heal. The cobwebs faded, until a light grey colour was all that was left.

Harry grabbed a large stone, quickly transfiguring it into a cup before casting aguamenti.

Raising Draco’s head slightly, Harry pressed the cup to his lips, letting the cold water enter Draco’s mouth.

“Can you hear me?” whispered Harry, but Draco didn’t respond. Harry pulled Draco’s body close, tracing the lines that decorated Draco’s torso with his finger. “I’m so sorry I left. I should have stayed. I’ve made everything so much worse for you. I’m so sorry, Draco. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Merlin, Potter, you got soppy,” mumbled Draco, opening one eye and shooting Harry a small grin.

“I thought you were unconscious!”

“I was. Now I’m not.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now you’re here,” slowly Draco managed to sit himself up, but took hold of Harry’s hand, as if he was terrified Harry would disapparate again.

“Ron and Hermione visited while I was gone. Astoria knows?”

“She does,” said Draco, avoiding eye contact but keeping his hand tight around Harry’s. “I told her a few months back. I have never been in love before, Harry. And then, _I found you_.”

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat and all he could hear was a ringing in his ears. He didn’t know how to respond, whether Draco actually meant that he was in love with Harry.

“Draco,” started Harry, before he was cut off.

“Don’t say anything,” their hands were still connected.

Without a second thought, Harry crashed his lips into Draco’s, cupping the sides of his scarred face. For a moment, Draco was surprised, but relaxed into the kiss, placing a bony hand on the back of Harry’s head, fingers gently running through the wild black curls.

Pulling away after a few moments, Harry’s green eyes desperately searched the icy grey ones that glimmered in front of him.

“I found you, too,” said Harry softly, before leaning back in and kissing Draco under the stars.

The stars that twinkled extraordinarily bright.


	18. Chapter 18

Draco watched Harry, who slept peacefully in his bed. Though exhausted, Draco couldn’t find himself switching off. The room had been cast with a protection and noise cancelling spell to ensure Harry’s safety.

Harry had begged Draco not to make him go back to the manor, that his father will kill Harry if they go back. But there was nowhere else for them to go.

And Draco was not losing Harry again.

Harry’s breath was heavy as he slept. He looked gentle, as though nothing could harm him while he slept. Unlike when he was awake, the constant wrinkle of a frown creasing his forehead. It seemed Harry never relaxed his brow anymore.

Letting out an annoyed grunt, Draco climbed out of the bed and headed over to a large chest that sat underneath his window. Sitting cross-legged in front of it, he muttered “Alohomora” quietly, then slowly reached inside. The contents had been bound by a blood curse, to ensure anyone who may be snooping could never find them. And if they did, they suffered excruciating consequences.

What he decided to pick up was a large notebook, which was nearly completely filled. Slowly, Draco flipped through the pages, checking over the work he had tirelessly done. Pages upon pages of logs, provided with proof, everything dated.

This would soon be his freedom.

“Draco?” came a voice from behind. Shutting the book quickly, Draco twisted his head to find Harry, still curled up in the bed, but his eyes now open.

“Hullo,” answered Draco.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

“What are you doing?” Harry sat up now. Shaking his head, Draco placed the book back into the chest.

“Nothing.”

“Draco,” slowly Harry made his way over and sat behind him, “we can’t keep secrets.” His green eyes stared deep into Draco’s, searching for an answer he was unsure he’d ever get. “That’s what destroyed us.”

“I know,” replied Draco. With a frown, he closed the chest and quickly cast a shrinking charm. A handy spell he consistently used. Firmly holding the chest into his hand, he said, “not here,” before grabbing Harry’s hand and disapparating.

They ended up at the burrow. Draco was unsure as to why he picked this place, as he had never been, he was even unsure he’d be able to apparate there. But, after a talk with Harry, he knew it was where Harry had been safely hiding for weeks. Draco felt as if he could trust the burrow, even trust the Weasleys.

“What is it, Draco?” asked Harry, stopping him from entering.

“We need to be protected if I am going to tell you,” responded Draco, his face serious and solemn, “I can’t trust that my father doesn’t have anti spells to be able to hear all of my conversations. This was the first place I thought of.”

“Okay.”

They stepped forwards, but just as he was about to reach the door, Draco stopped. “Do you think they will be angry to see me, the Weasleys?”

“Why would they be?”

“Because of my father.”

“They aren’t,” said Harry matter-of-factly, gripping Draco’s hand for comfort. “In fact, they know everything about us.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I told them when I first arrived here. I was expecting a complete bollocking from Mrs Weasley, but she accepted it. You will be fine.”

Still unsure, Draco warily followed Harry into the oddly shaped house. As it was morning, the Weasleys were sat at the kitchen table, a large breakfast piled up. As soon as Harry entered, he was met with a swat over the head, then engulfed in a hug.

“Harry Potter!” Mrs Weasley yelled as she gripped tightly to him, “you had us all absolutely worried sick.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Weasley,” said Harry, “Draco cast a patronus.” Pulling away, Mrs Weasley looked at Draco with wide eyes, only just noticing the skinny boy was stood in the doorway.

“Mr Malfoy,” she breathed, nodding to him.

“Draco is fine.”

“I’ll cast a protection,” Mr Weasley said, rising up from his chair with a grunt, “you two eat some breakfast. Draco looks like he needs it.” Chuckling to himself, Mr Weasley hobbled out of the door. Mrs Weasley ushered them both to the table. The fact that neither of the parents seemed bothered of his presence, and instead just treated him as a friend, made Draco feel safe.

“I’d never have imagined Malfoy to be sitting at my kitchen table,” laughed George with a mischievous grin.

“I’d never have imagined being in the Weasley’s home,” said Draco, looking around with a smile he failed to hide, “it’s actually nicer than I expected.”

“And what were you expecting?”

“One room for everyone,” replied Draco, making George laugh. “How are you, George?”

“Much better now, thanks, Malfoy.”

“No problem. Ron has been a great member of staff for me. If you need anything in regards to your treatment that you are struggling to get, let me know.”

“Lucius would allow that?” asked Mrs Weasley as she plated up breakfast, plopping down plenty of eggs and toast on Draco’s plate.

“That’s something I brought us here to talk about,” said Draco as Mr Weasley entered the house again.

“Oh?” Mrs Weasley sat opposite.

“I know you were involved in the Order back in my Hogwarts days. You’re among the few of the Order that survived the war, and haven’t been sent to the workhouses or to work for pureblood families,” Draco shifted uncomfortably as he thought back to the war, thought back to all the bodies he had to step over in order to get to his parents. “I need your help with something that’s incredibly important but has to remain a secret.”

Draco stood from the table and walked to an empty space. Placing something down on the floor, he took out his wand and gave it a tap. He felt shocked the Weasley’s didn’t even blink when he pulled his wand, and part of him wanted to cry from the emotion it brought him. But he didn’t, what he had to say was far more important.

The chest grew to its original size. He pulled out the book he’d been flicking through back in the manor and placed it down on the table in front of the couple.

“This is records I have compiled since Lucius’ reign as the minister began. From how he became the minister, to things he has been hiding and illegal actions he has taken.”

Two pairs of eyes stared at Draco for a considerable amount of time, before gingerly reaching for the large book. Harry was eager to read, and quickly rushed round the table and stood behind the Weasleys, watching as they slowly flicked through the pages.

_ 17th March, 2004. _

_My father has managed to successfully overrun the ministry. A member of the ministry approached me a few weeks ago, telling me that him doing so would destroy the wizarding world here in England as we knew it. I’ve changed my views since meeting Astoria, and I wish for every witch and wizard to remain as equals, to work together and live together as they please. I know my father’s views._

_I was told by this member of the ministry, who shall remain nameless for their privacy in case of the event this logbook is found, that my father has been paying off the Wizengamot in order to stay out of Azkaban. He’s managed to rally former Death Eaters together and they have successfully infiltrated the ministry, paying bribes to the Wizengamot. These new members have elected my father as the minister._

Harry almost couldn’t believe what he was reading. There had always been a huge conspiracy around Lucius’ reign, how he had managed to remain out of Azkaban all these years after being one of the most loyal Death Eaters. No one could ever think of how he had done it, but Harry had definitely heard theories centred around what he now knew to be the truth.

“It’s worth a read through the whole thing,” explained Draco as Mrs Weasley turned to the next page. “I supplied as much proof as I could.”

“What are you expecting us to do with this information?” asked Mr Weasley, a frown creasing his already wrinkled forehead.

“Help me and the other members of this organisation in taking down my father once and for all.”

Everyone was left in shock. It was dumbfounding to hear Draco speak about destroying Lucius’ career, after all those years at Hogwarts of Draco arguing about how great his father was.

“What else is in the trunk?” asked Mr Weasley.

“I’ll get a few things out. The chest is bound by a blood curse, so if you need anything from it, please ask me first. I don’t want to accidentally harm you,” said Draco as he walked over to the chest. He pulled some letters out, and what looked like different colours of ribbon.

“Here,” Draco placed them down on the long dining table. “We’re unable to properly communicate. At first, we sent letters updating each other on certain situations. But my father started to suspect some members of the ministry were up to no good, and letters became far too risky. Instead, we resorted to ribbons to communicate.”

Draco gestured to the ribbons. “We’d tie them to owl’s feet or tie them onto the parchment we sent for generic letters. No one has suspected anything, as we’ve managed to make it look as though the ribbons are used for practical purposes. There are meanings to them all.

“One red ribbon means suspected danger. Two means there is definite danger, but it isn’t urgent. Three means urgent danger. One yellow ribbon means an unexpected meeting from my father is or has taken place. Two means it is a private meeting. Three means it is an obvious illegal meeting with former Death Eaters. One blue ribbon means he has been ignoring laws regarding ex Death Eaters. Two means he has obliviated a muggleborn. Three means he has obliviated a half-blood,” Draco stopped for a moment, shaking his head.

“This is really peculiar,” said Mr Weasley, looking at the strands of ribbon that lay flat on the surface. “It’s very clever, Draco. Did you come up with it yourself?”

“I’d done some reading into muggle history. There was a spy ring called the Culper Ring, which was in the American Revolutionary war. They did this to share information on the British Army to Washington. They would send out pre-arranged signals. For example, a woman would hang a black petticoat on her washing line which meant Brewster, one of the spies, was arriving in his whaleboat.

“They also did things such as using invisible ink, which we had attempted, but one of the Death Eaters had found out about this due to invisible ink being widely used in the wizarding world. Fortunately for us, it wasn’t an important letter, it was mostly a test to see if any of the Death Eaters figured out our tactics. We’ve managed to let a few letters slip through the cracks with having a certain pattern with letters within our sentences, but sometimes it would be difficult to decipher and we stopped doing that. The ribbon tactic was far easier, and we have been using it for the past two years or so,” explained Draco.

“Absolutely fascinating,” said Mr Weasley in awe. “But what do you need us to do?”

“If it is okay, sir, I’d like to use the burrow as a meeting point and a place to receive my ribbons. Harry accidentally walked in on a meeting once, and it made me realise it’s far too risky to have my meetings at the manor.”

“That’s fine,” said Mr Weasley, “we can cast protection spells on it.”

“I can also issue you with protection from the organisation, too, to ensure your safety. I’d also like you to be involved, to help with the planning of taking my father down. Your work in the Order was exceptional and obviously proved to be successful,” said Draco.

Mr Weasley was taken aback by Draco’s compliment. “Well, thank you, we do appreciate it,” he looked over at Mrs Weasley, who nodded. “Of course we will help. Our family is directly involved in his reign as minister and we are petrified our grand kids will end up without a mother.”

“I will do my best to keep Hermione safe,” said Draco softly, “as I know my father is becoming extra strict on muggleborns. If it comes to it, I will send her and Astoria away for a few weeks, so there is some form of excuse for her to not be at the manor.”

“We really appreciate that,” said Mrs Weasley with a warming smile.

They spent the remainder of the morning reading through Draco’s logs, letters and talking about ideas that they could think of.

Though feeling uneasy, Harry couldn’t help but have a spark of excitement running through him. He watched Draco every so often, seeing a twinkle in his eyes, the colour returning to his face. Draco had started speaking quicker and more eccentric as he usually did, just like the days in Hogwarts when he got excited about his grades or showed off his new broom.

Sharing all of this with other people had lifted a huge weight off Draco’s shoulders. The pressure wasn’t solely focused on him now, though it still remained that way when he was to return to the manor.

Having a few remaining members of the Order on his side, helping him think things through made Draco feel exceptionally positive. More positive than he had felt in months, maybe even years.

Finally, something was going to be done, and maybe one day he could have an easy life.

A life he now knew he wanted to spend the rest of with Harry Potter.


	19. Chapter 19

Echoes of a pair of shoes on the marble floors surrounded the empty ministry. The man, who stood tall, with dark hair and dark skin, strode along gracefully. Under his arm was a thick black book, which he kept firmly in his grasp.

The man had a protection spell cast on him, ensuring he wasn’t to be seen until he undid it.

The lift sent him to the lower most floor and he exited, quietly but quickly making his way to a room he found himself in often. There stood four other people, one witch and three wizards. They turned to look at him as the door clicked shut behind.

“This was sent today,” said the witch, passing the wizard the ribbons. One of every colour. Breath hitching in his throat, he squeezed them tight in his hand.

“This means…?”

“Yes,” replied the witch, looking at him in the eyes. “It’s time.”

“Fire-call other ministries. France and Germany will definitely be on our side as it has been affecting them too,” explained the wizard as he nodded towards the other three wizards in the room. “Try and fire-call any other ministries you think may also get involved,” he looked at the witch this time, “prepare a special floo network to the safe house. Mr Malfoy has stated it is protected with every bit of magic possible as Mr Potter is there. They have a floo system.”

The wizards and witch got to work instantly, all rushing off out of the room to begin their tasks.

***

Draco couldn’t help but pace around the burrow. His heart pounded so hard in his chest he swore it was about to burst out.

“Draco,” said Harry gently, placing a hand on his shoulder from behind. Jumping, Draco spun round to face the shorter man.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I know it’s scary. Do you want a cup of tea?”

“No,” replied Draco, beginning to pace again. But Harry ignored him and walked over to the teapot, giving it a tap with his wand to boil the water inside. He made the tea and poured one for Draco, putting in one sugar.

“Sit,” said Harry, gently taking one of his pale hands and slowly leading Draco over to the table. Sighing in a pretence of being annoyed, Draco sat and stared at the teacup. Harry sat opposite him and watched.

He couldn’t imagine the emotions Draco would be going through right now. On one hand, he would be glad to see his father get taken down, for the wizarding world in England to be restored back to it’s glory it was in before Lucius took over. But Draco did love his father dearly, he always had and always would. Lucius was his idol ever since he was a very young boy, and Lucius did love Draco. Maybe less over the years, and especially less as Draco got older and started to rebel. But he had always given Draco as much love as his cold heart was able to and had done everything Draco had needed.

Then there was Narcissa. Though Draco had stated since Lucius’ take over there had been far more arguments between them, even threats of divorce, everyone knew how much Narcissa loved her husband. She did everything she could for him, stood by his side when Voldemort had taken residence in their manor, looked after him as he drank too much every night and suffered excruciating nightmares all those years ago.

Narcissa was too pure for Lucius, thought Harry as he watched Draco slowly sip his tea with a small smile curling his lips. From his days working with her, he knew her heart was full of good. She took care of Harry, ensured he was safe in the manor, didn’t overwork him. Instead, they spent hours gossiping, planting flowers in their humongous garden and reminisced the ‘good days’.

Maybe Narcissa would be glad to be rid of Lucius. Harry hoped, at least.

Draco’s hands shook as he held the cup, and he wasn’t able to hold it for very long in fear the tea would spill. After a few moments, a wave of nausea overcame Draco. His eyes darted to Harry’s in panic, and Harry could tell something was wrong. Suddenly, Draco shot up, knocking the chair over with force and ran to the sink, throwing up the small amount of contents in his stomach.

“Merlin,” coughed Draco, being sick one more time before switching on the tap. Without a moment’s delay, Harry’s hand was rubbing Draco’s back, soothing him as best as he possibly could. A small hand with a tissue entered Draco’s vision and he looked to his side, seeing the comforting face of Molly Weasley.

“Thank you,” said Draco, taking the tissue and wiping his mouth with it.

“Come here,” said Mrs Weasley, grabbing onto Draco’s extremely thin frame and wrapping her arms around him. Draco seemed to melt into the hug. As much as he loved his mother, he lacked the nurture Mrs Weasley had given to all her children for all the years they were alive. Not because Narcissa didn’t love Draco the same amount, but because she wasn’t able to show this love in front of her husband. Who always stood by her side when she saw her son.

Harry poured a glass of water for Draco and placed it beside them before giving his back another gentle rub, then walked away to allow them some privacy. Harry knew from experience how comforting Mrs Weasley’s hugs could be. Her grasp was always warm and tight, and for those few moments it felt as if nothing could harm you.

Draco definitely needed that right now.

But the moment was drastically cut short when the burrow’s fireplace suddenly lit up, and in entered a witch and a wizard.

“We have been preparing for tonight’s events,” said the wizard with a nod.

“A floo network with other ministries has been set up here. At some point within the next few hours, members of the French, German, Norwegian and American ministries will be entering here. Then we can commence the operation.”

“Thank you,” said Mr Weasley as he entered the room.

“Thank _you_ ,” replied the witch, nodding to him, “for allowing us to use your home.”

At this point, it was a waiting game.

***

The hours felt like days to Draco. He was unable to eat, even drinking water had his stomach churning. Everything he had been doing for the past few years was about to come into action, all the evidence used against his father. And now, his father would be gone. Possibly forever.

The thought had his head swimming, his eyes constantly fuzzy. He could barely see Harry crouched in front of him, barely feel the hands that squeezed tightly onto his. But he appreciated every second Harry spent attempting to comfort him.

Not too long later, the burrow was filled with witches and wizards from all over the world, including their ministers. Draco stood in the corner of the room, watching them with fear in his eyes, as they all talked together planning their attack.

“We will floo to the manor,” said the minister of the American ministry, “and there we can arrest him.”

“Where will he end up?” Draco’s voice was small as he spoke.

“Azkaban. In a highly protected cell so he can never manage to escape.”

“He will rot there,” said the minister of France, and Draco couldn’t help but feel anger burning inside him. But, unlike younger Draco, he stayed quiet, keeping his lips tightly pressed together. This was for a good cause, he had to keep reminding himself, this will make everything better. This will make your life better.

You will finally be able to be free with Harry Potter.

***

Suddenly they were in the manor. Draco knew it was dinner time, so it would be easy to find Lucius. Only the day before, Draco had managed to muster all his strength to put a spell on the manor, making it physically impossible for Lucius to disapparate. Just like at Hogwarts.

This is it.

The swarms of witches and wizards marched towards the dining room. Draco merged into the crowd as the ministers walked in front, and they swung the doors open with such force the doors slammed into the walls.

“Lucius Malfoy,” said the French minister.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” said Lucius as he stood, his hand firmly grasped onto the silver snake head of which his wand began.

“Over the past few days, we have been given evidence of your illegal activity.”

“What in the name of Salazar are you talking about?” scoffed Lucius, turning his head with a smirk forming on his lips.

“You know exactly what we are talking about,” stated the German minister.

“And how exactly have you obtained this information?” asked Lucius in a mocking tone. A silence was held for a few moments, before Draco stepped forward.

“By me.”

“My own son. My own flesh and blood. Betraying me?” Lucius tutted and began to pull his wand from the cane. “You should know better.”

“Lucius-” started Narcissa, but it was too late. Lucius’ wand was pulled and pointed towards Draco.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Stupefy!” all the ministers said at once, making Lucius fly back and hit the wall. But, the spell was already cast.

Harry’s eyes quickly darted to the side, his breath caught in his throat. He braced himself to see Draco lying there, cold, stiff, just as he had seen so many bodies during the battle.

But Draco stood still. His eyes were tightly shut, expecting any moment for him to drop dead onto the marble floor. As he opened his eyes, he saw the ministers all rushing over to an unconscious Lucius to arrest him. Looking to the side of him, he saw his mother, her eyes wide, hand clasped over her mouth in horror.

Draco looked down.

On the floor, lay a limp body. It took a few moments for Draco to register what was happening. Then, his knees buckled beneath him, and he clattered to the floor.

“No!” he found himself screaming, scooping up the lifeless body of his wife. Her head lolled in his arms as he pulled her close, begging for her to still be alive.

But she wasn’t.

Astoria was dead.

***

“I brought you tea,” said Harry softly, walking into the bedroom. They had gone to Ron and Hermione’s house, as it was the only place Draco didn’t have any connection to.

Draco lay in the bed, staring at the window, his eyes completely dried out of tears while the pillow remained soaked in them.

Harry placed the cup of tea on the bedside table before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Draco didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

Harry’s heart sank seeing him this way. Without saying anything, he reached forward and slowly ran his fingers through Draco’s, now matted, white-blonde hair. It had been two days since Astoria’s death, and he hadn’t moved from the bed since. Hadn’t eaten, and Harry was almost certain he hadn’t even drunk anything.

“Draco,” whispered Harry softly, tucking hair behind Draco’s pointed ears. After a few more moments of silence, Harry stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. Taking off his shoes, he pulled back the quilt and lay himself down next to the small frame, which lay curled up like a child.

Harry wrapped an arm around him and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Draco’s head. It was as if this small motion woke Draco out of a deep slumber. He rolled round, facing Harry. For a few moments, they stared at each other, then Draco’s whole face began to crumple.

Loud wails sounded from the man as he buried his head into Harry’s chest, grabbing onto his shirt in desperation, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t, Harry would disappear.

But Harry was there, holding Draco tightly, breathing, living, okay. The pain shot through Draco like bullets, piercing his heart with every sob he released.

Hermione was stood at the door, tears streaming down her own face as she watched the two men holding each other. Ron’s hands were placed on her shoulders gently, giving them a gentle squeeze every few seconds to remind her that he was there.

“Draco,” hushed Harry, stroking his fingers against the back of Draco’s neck. “I understand what you’re going through. And I wish I could make the pain go away. But I can’t. It will eat you up, destroy you. Everything will seem so different now. Nothing will feel okay, not for a long time.”

Draco looked up at Harry, no longer wailing, but instead hiccuping out soft cries. Harry’s hand gently wiped away his tears, then cupped his slender, pointed face.

“But I’m here. I’m always going to be here.”

Curling back into him, Draco’s hand grabbed onto Harry’s. “That’s all I need,” said Draco, the first words he had spoken since arriving at the Weasley’s household.

Ron and Hermione were now on the bed, too. Hermione lay on the other side of Draco, stroking his hair softly, while Ron took hold of his other hand.

Never had Draco imagined he would have the golden trio surrounding him, taking care of him as he suffered the greatest loss he’d ever been through.

He had never felt so safe in his entire life.


	20. Chapter 20

“Come in, Mrs Malfoy,” said Harry as he stepped aside from the door. Narcissa walked in slowly, her long black dress flowing elegantly behind her.

“How is he?” asked Narcissa, turning and facing Harry. Her expression was worried, and there were fine lines forming on her face that Harry hadn’t noticed before.

“Better,” replied Harry with a sad smile, “but he’s still having his moments.”

“I understand,” Narcissa looked to the bedroom door. “May I?”

“Of course,” Harry walked in front of her and knocked gently on the door. As he opened it, he saw Draco, lay in the bed. Today was a bad day. “Draco,” said Harry, “you have a visitor.”

Draco’s head turned and his silver eyes lay on his mother. Harry saw his chin crumple as Narcissa rushed to the bedside. This was the first time the mother and son had seen each other since that fateful night, and it definitely made Draco emotional.

“Mum,” he sobbed. Harry had never heard Draco call her ‘mum’ before. It seemed so informal, so _personal_ , and suddenly Harry didn’t want to be in the room anymore.

“Oh, my darling,” said Narcissa softly, running her fingers through his messy blonde hair. “You’re being so strong. Has Mr Potter been taking care of you?”

“Yes,” said Draco as he curled into his mother like a child, “very much so.” Harry imagined Draco as a child, running in the garden and falling, grazing his small pale knee. Narcissa rushing over to her son, pulling him onto her lap and shushing him gently, telling him it’s only a scratch, and that he’s safe in her arms.

Harry knew Draco felt safe in her arms.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Harry made his excuses and left the room, heading straight for the bathroom and locking himself in. Tears stung his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. There was a lump in his throat that hurt him to breathe, and his chest felt tight.

All he could think about was his own mother.

His mother, who’s life was taken from him at such a young age, that there were no memories Harry could recall of her.

His mother, who died protecting Harry.

His mother, who’s eyes stared back at him every time he looked in the mirror.

The tears fell one after another, dampening his face. Attempting to quieten his sobs hurt his whole body. He couldn’t be weak, not now.

He had to be strong for Draco.

But it was too late, he was too loud, and there was a soft knock on the door.

“One moment,” called Harry, his voice wavering as he spoke. After wiping his face, he opened the door to find Narcissa stood there.

“Draco asked me to check on you.”

“Oh, Mrs Malfoy, I’m fine,” lied Harry with a fake smile, “go back to Draco.”

“He understands how hard this situation can be for you. After everything you have been through since such a young age. It’s understandable you need a moment,” said Narcissa with a soft, motherly smile. “And I know my being here may be hard, too.”

“No, Mrs Malfoy, please,” said Harry, but she shook her head to stop him.

“I’m not saying I’m leaving, Mr Potter. I’m just informing you my son and I’s understanding to your emotions,” she reached a small hand to Harry’s calloused one and gave it a soft squeeze, “don’t feel that you have to be strong for him. Everything is very difficult right now, and if you need to cry, if you need to shout and scream, Draco will be right there with you.”

“Thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” said Harry as tears threatened to fill his eyes again.

“Please, Narcissa,” she responded with a spirited grin, before turning and walking away. Harry watched her walk, noticing the similarities between her and Draco. Both walked with utter confidence, chin in the air, moving as though they were floating rather than walking.

After a few moments, Harry re-entered the bedroom. The guest bedroom at the Weasley’s house.

Hermione had done all she could to help the situation, even after all the years of torment Draco put her in during Hogwarts. Every morning she would make Draco and Harry a cup of tea and a crumpet, even if Draco didn’t eat it, which happened most mornings. For the few moments Draco went to use the bathroom, Hermione would quickly use her wand to change his bedsheets, so he would always sleep in something clean.

Draco had really appreciated all of her efforts.

“Harry,” said Draco softly as the small man stepped into the room.

“Draco,” replied Harry.

“Come,” Draco held out his hand. There was a brief moment where Harry felt embarrassment, like the idea of Draco showing him affection in front of Narcissa was wrong, that Draco would be punished for it. But then he remembered all those days spent with Narcissa, helping her with gardening, while she allowed Harry to tell her the truth about their relationship.

So, he sheepishly walked over to the bed and sat next to Draco, who tightly kept their hands locked together.

“We are holding a funeral for Astoria in two days time,” explained Narcissa in a soft voice, “but today there is something we need you to do.”

“I can’t do anything, mum,” said Draco in a quiet, child-like voice.

“I’m sorry, Draco, but you have to,” shaking her head, Narcissa continued, “the ministry is nearly done with sorting out everything to do with your father. But the problem lies, they have no one to take over his post. They asked for you.”

“I don’t want to be a minister,” whined Draco, leaning his head onto Harry’s shoulder. Cheeks starting to redden, Harry looked away from the beautiful woman sat before him, trying to hide his blush that made him feel like a child.

“If you don’t, you need to name someone. You were the leader of this operation, Draco. You are the one who has to finish everything up.”

For a few moments, Draco stared at the bedsheets, before slowly nodding in agreement.

***

Draco stood in the office where Harry had once entered, trying to find the horcrux locket that Umbridge had attempted to keep safe. Everything looked different now, the office looked friendlier, and it definitely didn’t have any traces of Umbridge left.

“I have decided who I want to take over the ministry,” said Draco with a bold voice, “if they will accept the position.”

“Who?” asked one of the other ministry members.

“Mrs Hermione Weasley,” said Draco, looking over to the small woman who stood next to her husband. Her face was shocked, full lips in the shape of an o. She wasn’t expecting it. And by the gasping response of the room, neither was anyone else.

Nor was Harry.

“M-Me?” stuttered Hermione as she stepped forwards a few steps.

“Yes. I know that was what you wanted when we were in Hogwarts, a very large goal that you felt unachievable due to your blood status,” Draco swallowed sadly, thinking about how his wife had taught him to accept and appreciate muggleborns, “but I know you will do an excellent job. You are hardworking, loyal, and fair.”

“Are you sure, Draco?” asked one of the ministry members.

“Surer than I have been in a very long time,” said Draco, giving Hermione a small nod and smile.

***

That night, Hermione held a large dinner for hers and Ron’s family, inviting Draco and Harry to join them, in celebration for her new position as minister.

The drinks flowed, and for the first time in days, Harry saw Draco smile, laugh, having fun.

After dinner, and after the children had gone to bed, the many bodies all sat around the fire on the sofas. Harry and Draco sat together, Draco’s head resting on Harry’s chest, tucked underneath his chin. He was certain Draco could hear his heart beating quickly, because for the first time in so long, he felt excited. Excited to have this beautiful man curled into him, in front of the people he calls family.

The conversation flowed easily, and every now and then Draco would chime in. This warmed Harry’s heart, realising how comfortable Draco must now feel with the Weasleys. Though he knew it was going to be a tough few months, having to help Draco through the grief of losing Astoria, he felt positive. Times were changing, things were getting better. Things were going to be so much better.

Draco’s breathing had become slow and steady. Moving slowly, Harry looked down at the pale face that lay beneath his. Draco’s eyes were shut, his mouth very slightly open. He was asleep.

And he looked the most peaceful Harry had ever seen him.

“Sleeping beauty,” joked George quietly. Harry now noticed everyone was watching them.

“I just hope he doesn’t have any nightmares tonight,” Harry nearly whispered.

“The alcohol should stop that,” said George with a chuckle, “I saw him knocking them back.”

“It’s medicinal,” said Hermione with a small grin.

“I’ll help him to bed,” said Harry, before gently running his hands through Draco’s hair to wake him softly. Eyelids drooping, Draco looked up at Harry sleepily. “Bedtime, mister,” chuckled Harry. Draco whined, but sat up anyway, rubbing his eyes while he swayed slightly.

Harry tugged him up and they said their goodnights, before he walked into the bedroom with Draco.

Both men flopped down onto the bed, soft giggles escaping Draco’s plump lips.

“Harry,” they turned to face each other.

“Yes, Draco?” Harry gently tucked some blonde locks behind Draco’s pointed ear.

“I love you.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “I love you too.”

***

Over the next few months, Draco had started to heal. There were times he had night terrors, and would wake Harry up screaming, thrashing about, yelling Astoria’s name. It got to a point he’d end up taking dreamless potions at night just to stop them, but Harry had insisted he tried to come off them, as if Draco didn’t take one, he’d have a panic attack.

They had moved out of Malfoy manor, has there were too many memories lingering there. The last thing Draco did before officially leaving the manor, was step back into the dining room for the first time.

He had knelt down at the spot where Astoria had lay, and Harry swore the floor looked darker there. Draco had run his fingers along the cold surface, a few tears dripping from his grey eyes.

It was brave of him, Harry had thought as he watched his love, to face the place it happened.

The two had moved into a manor of their own, much smaller than the one Draco had grew up in, but still much larger than anywhere Harry had ever thought he’d end up. Every Friday night, they invited over all of the Weasleys, including Molly, Arthur and George, for a dinner before the weekend began.

Draco thrived now, leaving as much of his pain behind as he could. Both he and Harry had begun to see mind healers, to work through their immense trauma, which only brought them closer together.

After two years, Draco had proposed to Harry in France while they were on holiday. Of course, Harry said yes, and they got married soon after.

Then, they adopted a son, whom they named Scorpius Malfoy. The name Astoria had always dreamt of giving to a son.

At already three years old, Scorpius fit in perfectly, especially since his hair was white blond like Draco’s. Something Harry would never not find amusing.

Now working as a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry couldn’t wait until Scorpius turned eleven, and he could teach his own son.

Draco helped out in Hogwarts from time to time, sometimes covering the Potions classes, and would teach a few Defence Against the Dark Arts classes for his occlumency skills.

From time to time, Harry would look at Draco, who would be sitting across the room from him, the daily prophet in his hands, a frown furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he read. The feelings Harry got when he had first realised he was in love with Draco Malfoy had never gone away, and every time he watched Draco, or heard his laugh, or heard him call Harry’s name, Harry’s heart would flutter, his palms would become clammy and his ears would burn from his blush.

Harry knew he had truly succeeded in his life.

Before now, he had never felt complete.

But Draco Malfoy completed Harry Potter, completely and utterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love and support with this story. I am so proud of this work, and I'm sad to see the end of it. I hope this ending has satisfied you as much as it has for me.


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